


Belamour

by Ilguna



Series: Halcyon [1]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Murder, Betrayal, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Complete, Death, District 4 (Hunger Games), District Four, Drowning, F/M, Fluff, Lacuna, Minor Character Death, Murder, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon, finnick odair's hunger games, there is a sequel y'all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 127,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26059708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilguna/pseuds/Ilguna
Summary: they say the odds tend to favor those who need them. well, they were wrong.
Relationships: Finnick Odair/Gallows, Finnick Odair/Reader, Finnick Odair/You
Series: Halcyon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2070090
Comments: 2
Kudos: 34





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I give you a last name (Gallows) to fit the universe.

The horrid sound of wailing is enough to wake you up from the dead of sleep. Sweat runs down your back in tiny droplets, tickling certain nerves, making you shiver even though it’s nowhere near cold. As you instinctively search the room, expecting an intruder to be waiting in the doorway–you’re met with nothing.

The room is dark, and quiet besides the muffled sobs that sound from the corner of the room. When your eyes land on the crib, you’re able to see your sister, desperate to get out and get the day started already. That or she’s tired of the silence, and she’s hungry.

“Please.” she asks politely, hands outstretched for you to help her.

You run a hand through your hair, getting it to stop sticking against your forehead. As you slip out of the small bed, you stretch your arms above your head, yawning loudly to try and get the grogginess to leave. It’s no use this early.

“Good morning.” you scoop her up gently, going to set her on her feet. The second she realizes this, she grabs a hold of your shirt tightly, clearly in no mindset to let it go anytime soon. So, instead you let her lay her head against your shoulder like she did when she was a baby, and go to leave your bedroom.

The second you step out, you realize that the house is empty. And a clear indicator is the fact that the curtain’s aren’t open to allow sunshine in. They’re still drawn shut tightly to make sure that no peeping neighbors get the pleasure of seeing what it looks like in the morning.

Although, with the severity of today’s date, you’re sure no one would bother to do something like that. Maybe some other day, or month. But things are already pretty low at the moment, why make it worse?

As you tuck your sister, Alyssum, into her booster seat, you wonder what there is for breakfast besides oatmeal. If you even think to bring it up, she’ll undoubtedly throw a fit over it. So, you take a peek into the old, paint-chipped cupboards to try something that won’t cause a fight. 

You find nothing.

You pull down the oatmeal, and then for good measure, grab the sugar. Right when you turn to give her a speech about breakfast options being limited today, the lock on the front door rattles. You close your mouth and lean against the counter, watching as the handle turns and then opens to reveal your two older brothers.

The first and oldest to come through the door is Reed. He’s got an old backpack over his shoulders, and in each hand is a jug of water. Alyssum pushes herself up in her seat to look over the back of the chair and see who’s joined you. When Reed realizes he’s got an audience, he smiles.

“You look rough.”

“You look rough.” you mock, he laughs at the tone, setting the jugs onto the end of the kitchen counter, and turns to face your second oldest brother, Mox.

In his hands is a blue cooler that seems to be weighing him down. He’s hunched over, teeth clearly clenched and looking disgraceful. He blows a single strand of his long hair out of his face repeatedly, likely irritated that he’s been stuck with the heaviest object of them all.

“Need help?” Reed asks.

And in the same exact way you mocked Reed moments earlier, Mox says; “Need help?” in a high-pitched voice, “Shut up.”

Reed snorts, delighted with himself. He slips off the backpack and sets it onto the counter. When he unzips it, he starts unloading everything he must’ve got while he was out with Mox. It starts with bathroom items first; shampoo, body wash, toothpaste, a brand new package of toothbrushes. And then immediately after is what you were hoping for, food other than oatmeal.

“I’m hungry.” Alyssum whines, Reed slides the fresh loaf of bread your way. This is from the local Bakery, this isn’t from The Square.

“How much was this?” you ask, looking at Reed. 

When he doesn’t answer, you look to Mox instead. The two of you have a long staring contest, which is made up of you mostly waiting for him to cave. And he does, with a sigh, he looks back to the cooler and pushes it into a small space between the wall and the counter just big enough to fit it sideways.

“We didn’t have much of a choice.” Mox says, pushing on the lid to make sure it’s shut tight, “The Square was out, they were busier than usual today. If you’d gone, you’d understand.”

“So you couldn’t have gotten something else?” your attention is turned to Reed, now.

Reed shrugs, “We had a little extra change to spare. And really, it wasn’t all that much. In fact, we were practically begged to buy it because it would go to waste. He lowered the price considerably for us.”

“Enough to make a profit but now enough to gorge us.” Mox agrees, “It’s fresh too.”

You nod, hoping that they aren’t making up some blatant lie just because they wanted a fresh loaf of bread from once. You know that the bread from The Square can be daunting at times, but if they didn’t dance around the food for so long, then they wouldn’t psyche themselves out.

Plus, it’s not like anyone along that alley would willingly give anyone diseases or sicknesses. Especially not your family, with how long you’ve been going to get food from them. For you all to leave now would mean to risk going out of business, losing regular customers like that.

You pull the bread knife out of the silverware drawer, turning it over to make sure that it’s been cleaned thoroughly since Mox has a habit of not double-checking when it comes to putting away anything supposedly clean and dry from the rack. When you’re sure it’s fine, you sink the blade into the top, and find yourself satisfied when you don’t have to fight for the bread to give.

You plate a slide and a half of the semi-warm bread, and set it in front of Alyssum. She reaches over immediately, tearing apart the crust from the soft middle, and goes straight to eating. Mox gets her a small drinking cup, halfway filled with water and sets it beside the plate.

“I’m gonna go pick out our outfits.” you push the cutting board and knife away from the edge of the counter. You scoop up the toiletries to drop off on your way to the back of the house, “Feel free to start dumping water in the tub.”

“Sure.” Reed says.

You set up everything neatly and in their respective places inside of the bathroom. Above the glass tub is a tiny window with tiny curtains. You open them enough to allow light in the room, hoping to save gas in the lanterns for nights you actually need them. On the way out, you pass Reed, who’s got the first bucket of many that will fill the tub.

You start with the easy outfit first. This one will cause little to no thought when it comes to it. Alyssum is still relatively small. She’s grown since last year of course, but she’ll still fit into the dress you wore when you were her age. So, you pull it out of the bottom of the dresser by her crib–that seriously needs to be upgraded into a small bed, instead–and lay it on top. 

A dress, a clean change of underwear, socks, her tiny Jane’s. You place a small cardigan on the occasion she gets cold in this summer heat while she waits. Then, you move onto the more challenging task. You find yourself standing in front of your parent’s bedroom, unable to open the door and go inside.

Every year, it’s the same struggle. The same argument inside of your head. Why bother going inside when you can wear last year’s dress? And then you remind yourself that last year’s dress doesn’t fit anymore, and therefore you need a bigger one. None of you have the money to spare for a new one, so you have no choice but to try and fit into what used to be your mother’s dresses.

You know that the second the door opens, the old smells will be overwhelming. It’ll be enough to bring tears to your eyes and freeze you in the middle of the room. If it’s too strong, you’ll probably collapse to the floor like you did two years ago, and you ended up succumbing to the onslaught of tears that year.

You don’t want that to happen again.

You should be able to just ask one of your brother’s to do this task for you, then. If it’s so unbearable painful to go through. But it’s just as uncomfortable for them as it is for you. Reed doesn’t show it anymore, but you know that he doesn’t like to be put into situations where he’s compared to your father. And if anyone even mentions the fact that Mox looks like your mother, tears will well in his eyes and he has to excuse himself from the conversation, never staying long after her mention.

It’s been a couple of years, but the wounds are still very fresh in your minds. 

Knowing that the tub water is getting cold now, you tilt your head and grab the cold doorknob, turning it slowly like you’re afraid you’ll stir up memories. You avoid the squeaky floorboard strategically, and take your last breath of air to ensure that the smell of the room won’t be a distraction.

The first sight you’re greeted with, is the mirror that’s directly across the room from where you stand. You’re able to see that your hair is messy, and you’ve got a tired look in your eyes. To be fair, you haven’t really had a chance to fix either of those things just yet, and you’re hoping the bath will.

Wasting no time, you move over to the wardrobe. Inside on hangers are old suit jackets that belonged to your father, and dresses that you never really saw your mother wear except on formal occasions, which were rare. You pick through the dresses, looking for one that’ll fit you. Over the years you’ve grown out of even her wardrobe, proving just how much of a small woman she was.

You go ahead and settle on mustard yellow one way off to the left. You tried it on once, way in the distant past. Back then it was much too big for you, so you had to give up the surprisingly pretty color. Now, you’re fearing that it’s too small for you. Oh, how the tables seemed to have turned.

You shut the creaky wooden door as you situate the dress over your arm, making sure that the doors don’t slam back onto the frame. Your lungs are already burning, upset at your slow pace in the room. And the exact moment you go to hurry up, you manage to stir up a puff of dust that makes home inside of your nose.

Oh shit.

You sneeze, turning your head away from the dress to make sure that no matter what, it stays clean. It’s not just once, or twice. After the third sneeze has left you, Reed rounds the corner to check up on you. At first, his face is grim at the sight of you in your parent’s bedroom, but then he’s amused.

“It’s dusty in there, huh?”

“Shut up.” you sniff, and then instantly regret it because it’s obvious that there’s still stuff up your nose. You quickly shut the door behind you to make sure that after round two, there won’t be a three.

Once your body seems to get a hold of itself, your eyes are watering and you feel a little miserable. You’re just glad that you don’t have allergies like this all year round. In your room again, you fold the dress in half neatly, placing it on top of the dark oak desk. Then, your underwear, socks right on top. Off to the side, your own black flats.

You poke your head out into the doorway to the front of the house to see that Mox and Reed are at the table, eating their breakfast. Alyssum seems to be about halfway done, her pace slowing considerably. It looks like she’s done, and you’ll unfortunately have to finish off whatever soggy bread she didn’t touch.

In the bathroom, you shut the door and set out a towel. The water is probably luke-warm, mostly on the side of cold. And the second you dip your toe in, you’re so right. You scrub your skin with the sickeningly sweet soap that they had bought. As if the first smell isn’t nauseating enough, the shampoo doesn’t help much at all, either.

At least it’ll be able to temporarily wash away the smell of salt on your skin. Even if you haven’t been on the dock, in a boat or into the water in a week or so, the smell never seems to go away. It’s only a matter of time before you naturally begin to go back to the original scent that plagues the district.

And it’s not even close to the smell of sweat. In fact, the salt smell compared to the sweat, makes the salt smell sweet. Not as much as the soaps from The Square, but it’s a hell of a lot more pleasant than sweat and body odor.

When you get out of the bath, you dress in a second set of clothes that you had laid out in preparation of giving Alyssum a bath. To keep the dress dry, you’ll wear an old nightgown. Luckily for you, Alyssum doesn’t get fussy during bathtime, and she finds herself enjoying it.

And with how old she is now, you don’t really have to do anything other than monitor her. So, while she uses the soap and swoons at the brand new scent, you brush your hair free of tangles and dread the moment where you have to make it look nice for this afternoon. At the end of the bath, you still have to wash Alyssum’s hair, but right after you’re able to leave the humid room, taking the hair brush with you.

“Bathroom is free!” You shout, heading towards your room.

You shut the door behind you, setting Alyssum onto the edge of your bed. She complies patiently as you take your time getting her dressed. You skip over the shoes for now, since they’re a little tight on her feet now. Might as well let her be comfortable for as long as possible.

She manages to find a toy to entertain herself while you move to getting dressed. You make sure that your skin is dry entirely, afraid of the dress sticking to you while getting it on. While you pull it on slowly, you come to realize that the dress is loose. It’s not as nearly as tight as you thought it would be.

You dry your hair when the damp towel you used earlier, squeezing the most out. Alyssum mimics you in the motion, and manages to get the corner of your bed wet in the process. Hopefully by tonight, it’ll be dry and disgustingly wet against your feet.

You go ahead and do Alyssum’s hair, assuming that your brothers are still busy in the bathroom. You sit behind her on the bed, gently bringing the brush through her hair because you can’t feel the pain like she can. Alyssum let’s you know when it hurts, and you work your way around it. You bring half of it back, use a tiny band to secure it, and mostly leave it loose for taking it out later.

As you start your hair, you can hear the bathroom door open. With Reed being done, it’s only Mox left to go inside. You manage to get your hair to stay in place, allowing full movement of your head in any direction. It’s a relief, really. To not have to worry about that this entire afternoon.

On your way out of the bedroom, you slip on your flats and wait for Aly to slide off the bed. She lands on her feet, let’s out a nice giggle, and then rushes out of the room and towards the right. Going straight to Reed, probably.

You hang the towels up on the hooks outside the bathroom in the hallway. The bathroom is too small to have so many things clustered around at once. If and when guests come over, you’ll take the towels and whatever else might be out here, and tuck them away in the cupboards or singular shelf to resume the idea that the house is nice.

In the kitchen, you grab yourself a slice of bread and enjoy it while you wait on your brothers. Eventually, Mox comes out and wanders the hall to the shared bedroom with Reed in nothing but a towel. And not even a second later, Reed comes around fully dressed with Alyssum on his arm.

“I’ve got to do my hair now, pumpkin.” Reed says, setting her on the couch, “After that we’re gonna go.”

She huffs, but doesn’t say anything. You grab a glass of water, being careful with the jug. Once you’re done, you set everything that had been used into one neat stack on the left side of the sink to indicate that it’s all dirty. When you come back later, you’ll probably be the one to take care of it, since Reed and Mox will likely go out fishing as soon as possible.

Mox is ready before you know it, joining you, Reed and Alyssum in the kitchen. Upon agreeing that you’ve got everything you need—Reed had put Alyssum’s shoes on—and you’re not forgetting anything, you all head out, dragging your feet on it.

The second you step foot out of the house, you’re welcomed with the sight of Caspian’s family doing the same. Caspian is an old friend of both Reed and Mox. You’ve tolerated him since middle school, but recently stopped paying attention to him because he has a bad habit of getting on your nerves. Whether that be purposeful or not, you don’t pride yourself on surrounding yourself with people you don’t like.

Although, it’s not really like you have a choice. He’s a friend of Reed and Mox’s, and they’re not gonna leave him behind just because you say so. Your brothers love you dearly, but not that dearly.

“Hey!” You hear Caspian call, “Long time no see.”

“Haha.” Reed says, heading over after locking the door.

You tune the banter between them out, because you’ve got bigger fish to fry. Today is reaping day, and today your name is in the bowl four times. And compared to the people that have to take tesserae, it’s nothing. The four little slips of paper with your name on them, mean absolutely nothing. Especially with the population of District Four.

However, it’s still four. And next year the number will be five. And the year after that the number will be six. The more it grows, the more your odds increase. The thought alone is enough to make your heart stutter and struggle to resume it’s regular beat. 

To say that you’re afraid is an understatement.

But you’re one little person in a sea of thousands. There’s no way you’ll get chosen. And since the odds are supposed to favor those in need of help, your name should be skipped right over. Two valuable people in your family’s life have died already, and you don’t want to be the third.

Reed and Mox are barely above the reaping age. There’s only a year’s gap between the two of them. So, Reed is twenty and Mox is nineteen. If the two of them scraped on by without being chosen, then you should be just fine too. Plus, they were taking tesserae for a good two years while you guys got back on your feet.

The walk to the stage on your part is relatively quiet. You have nothing to hold onto since Mox is carrying your younger sister, so you pull on your fingers to ease your nerves. 

After a certain point, you decide to hum to fill the silence. The more you walk, the bigger the crowd gets. Until you’ve come upon the line of where you need to get signed in at. Without any instruction, you go ahead and get into line, still pulling on the finger that they’ll inevitably sting.

By the time you reach the front of the line, you feel sick. A part of you wants to believe that it’s just simple intuition, but you know better than that. This happens every year, and this year isn’t any different. Your finger is stung, and then you’re ushered towards where the eligible teens for the reaping stand in sections.

Your brothers catch you just before you go inside. Mox assured you that none of your hair is out of place, and Reed gives you a small pep talk on how it’s unlikely, but never be caught off guard.

You bid them goodbye, heading into the fifteen section on the left with the girls. They let you in freely, and you stand and try not to sway in the hot sun. It’s exactly overhead, maybe even a little behind. As long as it’s not directly shining into your eyes, you don’t really care where it is, exactly.

You take a quick look behind you to check up on your brothers. Unfortunately, since the back rows are the older kids, they also get taller. You can’t exactly see your brothers, but if you strain on your toes hard enough, you can barely make out the top of Alyssum’s head. Clearly, she’s on Reed’s shoulders.

When you turn back to the stage, you’re greeted with the sight of the mayor helping Mags onto the stage. Mags is the only female victor of District Four, therefore she’s the only mentor that the female tributes can get. Which is a bummer, considering her age. She might mentor every year, but that doesn’t mean she’s too knowledgeable about the technologies inside of the arena now.

She was the winner of the eleventh games, which were fifty-four years ago. Talk about there being a time difference between when she was in, and when people go in now. Back then you’re pretty sure that they only fought in one arena every single year. 

Following Mags is a small parade of male victors. The first one seems to be just as old as Mags, maybe a little younger. You think his name is Luther, but you’re not entirely sure. Behind Luther is Scotch, a lot younger than Luther. Scotch is completely bald, and seems to have a scowl on his face.

The final person to walk out is Anchor. He’s the most recent victor of Four, and he won—ironically—four years ago. Despite this, seeing him on the stage is still very new to a lot of you. Especially because of the age gap between Anchor and Scotch, which is a good ten to fifteen years, at least.

You’re sure that District Four would have more victors if it weren’t for the careers and how they prepare for the games. It’s no secret that they’re doing something with their tributes. The number of victors they have is unnatural. And one very good example of this is the latest female and male victors of District One.

Typically, you wouldn’t remember their names, but it’s the fact that they’re siblings and back to back wins that makes it stick in your mind. And they won so recently too. First, Gloss won the sixty-third games, and then his sister, Cashmere, won the sixty-fourth. 

Both from District One. They’re siblings. They’re back to back wins. That’s never heard of. It’s just not normal, and the Capitol has to know this. They just let it slide because they’re a favorite, which is so unfathomably unfair.

You manually unclench your teeth and settle for pulling on your non-injured finger while you wait. It doesn’t take too long, soon the victors have sat down, the sections are full and the anthem is playing over the stage. You watch as your mayor shuffles up to the microphone, clears his throat, and then begins the wretched speech that you have memorized by now.

It’s just a background history on why the Hunger Games had been created. It’s been nearly a century, and the Capitol is still hung up over something that happened sixty years ago. And it’s even funnier to think that they’re punishing the descendants of their beloved ‘criminals’. Simply being alive in the districts nowadays is offensive to the Capitol.

The speech finally ends, the mayor closing it up promptly to keep on time with the program. He introduces your Capitol Representative, and then takes his respective seat on the right side of the doors, opposite of where the victors currently sit.

Elysia Petalsong—honestly, their names are so ridiculous. As if their body modifications weren’t heinous enough, now they’ve got last names of fairytale characters. Anyway, she’s looking a lot more humble this year. Her outfit isn’t as outrageous as the last, which was mostly so she could get a good year’s worth of spotlight. Now she’s just as lame as she was before.

She wears a blonde wig, and you can tell because there was one year her hair was brown, and her hairline wasn’t shifting every time she moved her head. She wears a yellow outfit that strangely resembles the sun. If the fabric had been a little more metallic, there’s no doubt that she’d be reflecting the sun right into all of your eyes.

There’s a huge smile on her face as she leans into the microphone. Even from this distance, you can see her unnaturally white teeth. She stands tall, “Good afternoon, citizens of District Four,” unlike other Capitol Representatives you’ve heard, her accent doesn’t stand out nearly as much, “Happy Hunger Games.”

Before you know it, you’re involuntarily rolling your eyes. They land on the ground before you, and you can see that some dirt and dust has been kicked up and onto your black flats. Luckily, there’s no actual imprints of someone stepping on them.

The Capitol finds joy in the games, while the districts writhe in agony. You’re not sure how a bunch of people can find fun in watching twenty-three teenagers fight to the death. But then again, who’s to say that the Capitol citizens are even human? They don’t act like it. They don’t think like it.

“We’ll start with the ladies.” Elysia chirps, making your heart skip in your chest. All at once, the nerves seem to resurface. And even with your greatest attempts to repress and ignore, it’s impossible. 

You wish it were possible to turn around and see your brothers. You know for a fact that would bring comfort. But there’s tall girls behind you, and your eyes seemed glued to Elysia, monitoring her every movement.

She moves smoothly to her left, gazing into the bowl as if the white paper slips inside are mesmerizing. You can’t help but to wonder if she gets a power trip each time she pulls one out. Knowing that her fingers could have selected the next victor.

She reaches in, the rings on her fingers clinking against the rim of the bowl. She hovers for a moment, like she can’t decide which one will give the best outcome. The tension that had started in your stomach has risen past your chest and straight into your throat. 

You hold your breath, it’s not like you have much of a choice anyway.

She picks out a paper slip, and you can audibly hear the other girls around you hold their breaths too. All of you share the same amount of anxiety as to who will be chosen this year. Eyes wide, and some praying that it won’t be them.

Elysia moves back to her microphone, taking her time with unfolding the paper so that it doesn’t accidentally rip. She reads it to herself, it seems and then that smile spreads back over her face. She looks out to you girls.

“District Four’s girl tribute is (Y/n) Gallows.”


	2. Chapter 2

Back home, in the backyard, stands an oak tree that has been there for generations. The tree is tall, it reaches a good thirty to forty feet into the air. The leaves are green in the spring and summer, turn orange and yellow in the fall, and it’s bare in the winter. It has plenty of branches, all of them sturdy and reliable. Perfect for rope swings.

For years, your father would tie the knots into the ropes, and leave the job of climbing the tree to your brothers. He was always much too busy to climb it himself, but sometimes he’d come out and watch Reed or Mox scale the tree. When they did it, it was always graceful and they made it look easy.

Reed would shove his feet into the bark of the tree, and he’d dig his fingers in between the wood to pull himself up. It always took him a moment to start off, but as soon as he found a pattern, he was up the tree in seconds. As for Mox, he’d start off the same, but as soon as the first branch came into arm’s reach, he’d use the branches to pull himself up.

No matter how they did it, they always picked the same branch to dangle the rope off of. Sitting on top of it, tying it tightly to make sure it wouldn’t slip off, and then they’d carefully lower themselves down the rope. As soon as they were back onto solid ground, the three of you would take turns on who’d get the swing.

That pattern went on for a while. Until one day, after your father finished tying the new knots on the new rope–the ropes were always on their last leg, so you’d use them up until their last swing before getting a new one from The Square–you decide that you wanted to be the one who climbed the tree.

You had watched your brother’s do it at least once or twice a month for years. You memorized where they would put their hands, and what they’d do in stick situations. Honestly, you thought it would be the easiest thing in the world. And with no interjection from your father or your brothers, you threw the rope over your shoulder and went climbing.

You found the start easily, and had gotten a good start compared to your brother’s. Sometimes it took almost five tries of them breaking off the bark at the bottom before finding a good place to put their foot. But with how small and light you were, you had it easy. 

Before you knew it, you were up the tree and on the branch you all normally went to. You took your time tying the rope to the tree, knowing that it’s a crucial detail and since you were so weak, you had to work harder to put it in place. When you were sure that it was done, you went ahead and tried to get down the same way your brother’s would, straight down the rope.

Except, you were weak. You didn’t have those years of upper body strength like they did. You were nine, you still had years to get grown into your body like that. Of course, you didn’t take any of that into consideration at the time. You just thought that you’d be able to slide down the rope easily.

The second you started to go down the rope, you realized your mistake. It was too late to backtrack, and you had no choice but to go down the rope. You started off slowly, taking deep breaths and watching your every move. Then, one hand slip led to another, and the next thing you knew, you were free falling.

It was a weightless feeling. You weren’t holding your body any longer, it was the air around you. You could feel the wind whistling through your ears as the ground came closer and closer. It was a terrifying experience, and yet you never screamed once. It was caught in your throat, hitched. You couldn’t bring yourself to push it out.

And after the weightless feeling came your dad’s arms, as you were suddenly grounded again. No more leaving it up to gravity.

Needless to say, you’re feeling weightless. 

Honestly, you’re feeling pretty green too. And it’s really no surprise, anyone in their right mind would be feeling just as terrified as you are. Given the circumstances, they’re justified too.

(Y/n) Gallows, the female tribute of District Four heading into the sixty-fifth Hunger Games.

You nearly gag, so instead you grit your teeth, still not moving towards the aisle. You take in deep breaths through your nose, trying to get air into your throat to calm down. Although, breathing seems a little difficult at the moment too. The wind has been sucked from your lungs, just like how it had been when you landed in your father’s arms.

The impact hits now.

The girls around you take a moment to try and search for you, like they’d suddenly forgotten your name and what you look like. A thousand curse words go through your mind all at the same time when their eyes seem to land on you. You can feel their stares boring into the back of your head. All simultaneously giving you away to the Capitol Representative.

If they’d direct their eyes literally anywhere else, she’d have no clue. The peacekeepers would have no clue that it was your name that it was drawn, and you’re the one that’s supposed to be on the way up already. Elysia spots you easily, eyes seemingly shining in the sunlight. You can hear the peacekeepers boots on the dirt as they make their way over.

There’s no hiding. And really, there’s no running either. You could try of course, but you wouldn’t get very far. There’s nowhere to really go. You can’t go home, you can’t go beyond the fence, and you can’t swim your way out of this. There’s only one place that’s open to you. The second you give away your position to the Capitol camera’s is the second you sign your death certificate.

This is what it’s like to be cornered and have no options left.

Gritting your teeth a little harder, you clench your fists tightly as your sides as you turn to walk out into the main aisle. As you walk, you’re gentle on your feet, hoping that if you’re light enough, you’ll float right away into the sky. Because that’s one way out where they can’t stop you. 

As soon as you’re in the main pathway, you take a look at your brothers, your sister, and consequently, Caspian too. That was a bad idea. You should’ve waited to look until you were on stage. Seeing Mox on the verge of tears is enough to make you grind your teeth.

When the peacekeepers obstruct your view from your family, you let them escort you up to the staircase. You try your best to straighten out your face, but it’s hard to scrub it from your mind so quickly. You take your time going up the stone staircase, not wanting to trip and make yourself look like a fool.

Near the top, Elysia offers her hand for you to take. Every single cell in your body screams at you not to take her hand, even though it’s the polite thing to do. Ignoring them, you take it gratefully and let her lead you to the front of the girl’s bowl. And as much as you’d like to stare at your dirt-covered flats, you force yourself to look out to District Four.

Your throat swells immediately.

You can see the exact spot you came from, no girls filing in to stand there as if it’s cursed. You don’t blame them much, because it probably is. You can’t imagine how many girls that have stood there, have been called up onto this stage. Only to die a week or so later inside of the arena.

Your brother’s stand along the perimeter of the reaping area. It’s hard to see what they look like exactly, but the longer you stare, the more you’re able to see how upset they are. Reed’s face seems to be stone cold, hands holding onto Alyssum to make sure that she doesn’t fall off backward. She doesn’t understand what’s happening at all, and because of it, she has a smile on her face.

As for Mox, he’s crying. The way his face twists painfully, and how he’s got the neck of the shirt around the bottom half of his face to conceal it the best he can is a giveaway. Next to them, Caspian looks pretty grim too, a hand on Mox’s shoulder as he probably tries to console him.

You can’t begin to imagine the hundreds of scenarios already running through their heads. Reed’s probably wishing he was younger now, so that he could volunteer to be the male tribute to protect you inside of the games. And Mox… yeah, he’s probably thinking about your inevitable loss.

You’re only fifteen. Of course, fifteen year olds have won in the past, but when it happens, it’s boys for obvious reasons. 

Suddenly, Reed waves his hand to catch your attention. You look over to see him stand taller from his slouch, drawing his shoulders back and raising his chin. It’s obviously instructions, he just can’t yell it across the stage to you.

Listening to him, you stand up taller, already raising your head and placing your hands behind your back. You hold onto one of your index fingers to keep your arm’s in place, and watch as Elysia moves back to the microphone.

“Next are boys.” she says in passing, and then moves in front of the bowl. She takes her time again, tilting her head a little. Once again contemplating the worth of every single piece of paper inside. She opts for one on top this time, instead of digging her hand in like she did with the girl’s bowl.

Had she grabbed one off to the side for the girl’s, you wouldn’t be where you are right now. You’d still be standing in the fifteen section, feeling bad for the girl that had gotten picked. Instead, you are that girl. And people you know and don’t know are the ones feeling bad for you.

You find yourself glad that Reed and Mox are too old to volunteer. They need to be here for Alyssum. If either of them were to volunteer, they’d be taking the chance that both you and them don’t come out alive. Instead of just one more gone, it would be two.

You don’t realize that Elysia has resumed her spot in front of the microphone, leaning down to speak into it, “And District Four’s male tribute is Finnick Odair.”

Just before your mouth falls open, you catch it. You grit your teeth again, feeling hysteria rise in your throat, easing the swelling but now you’ve got to keep yourself from screaming at the top of your lungs. This isn’t fair. The papers have to be rigged, because this shouldn’t have been possible.

You don’t mind Finnick, really. He’s a nice boy, you’ve had plenty of conversations with him during passing periods at the high school. You wouldn’t say that the two of you are best friends, but you’re surely not strangers. You can’t count the amount of times after school you’ve stopped to talk and catch up.

No, the problem is the fact that he’s not the older boy you were hoping for. In fact, he’s not older than you at all. To have someone older than you would give you the chance of them protecting you inside of the arena. Their odds are greater, and therefore the sponsors will like them better. They’re also likely to take pity on you, and spare you because you’re from home.

This is Finnick, though. A freshman, fourteen, handsome, and an entire year younger than you.

Since you’re older than him, you’re going to be expected to be the one to take care of him inside of the Capitol. Or at least guide him, since you’re going to have the most ‘experience’ or something. All you really know is that this is going to be miserable. You won’t be the one receiving protection, you’ll likely be the one giving it. You are the shield, not the shielded.

Finnick comes out of the fourteen section much quicker than you. There’s a hard look on his face, eyebrows turned down and a little crease between them. This, and the fact that he’s much taller than you, actually makes him look older than you. The wind picks up when he hits the steps, making his blonde hair messier than it was before. 

Elysia doesn’t bother helping him up the steps. When he gets to the top, his eyes meet yours, and instead of feeling cold and afraid, there seems to be an understanding that passes between the two of you. You’re friends, you’ve been friends all this time. So, there’s no reason at all for you to start being enemies now. Especially in the time you’ll need him the most.

You nod at him, and he nods back.

Turning to look back out to Four, you listen as Elysia wraps this up, “Happy Hunger Games,” she says again, that same smile spreading over her face, “And may the odds be ever in your favor.”

She takes a step back, and without a single cue from her, you and Finnick step forward. You offer your hand first, and he takes it.

Up close, you’re allowed to get a better look at him, and think of the future you’re going to have together. Possibly victory, possibly loss. Whatever it is, you’re ready for it. Because all the times before, when the tributes didn’t get along, they ended up dying because of it. Sticking close to your district mate is important. They are the first ally you can make, and you want to be the last to lose.

You and him shake once, sealing the deal.

One last time, you face the crowd as the anthem plays. This is your second to last goodbye. The very last will be at the train station, where your brothers and sister will hopefully be there to send you off.

After, you’re swept away into the Justice Building. You and Finnick are split, and you’re guided and then locked in a room. Here, you’re forced to wait minutes on end as they corral your siblings to allow them to come and say goodbye. This is the last time you’ll get to talk to them. 

To calm the nerves beginning to swell again, you hunch over, hands on your knees as you think of your odds. Something to distract your mind while you wait for your siblings to come around and confirm what you already know.

You’re fifteen, but you’ve been preparing for this for years. Before your father had died, you were being taught ways to survive. At the time, you hadn’t really realized it, since he was so subtle about it all. Of course, you knew about the Hunger Games and the severity of them, but his lessons didn’t sink in until Reed took over after his death. 

Dad used to point out the edible plants at the dock just before you and your brothers would go out to water. Then, in the middle of the water with no one around, it was fishing lessons. He would make the three of you list off how to set up a fishing pole without showing it. Step by step instructions just by words alone.

If you got it right, you then had to fish. If you didn’t, you had to start over and try to find where you made the mistake. Then, later he would make you all describe how to make a fishing pole from scratch, apart from how to put it together. He’d give you different arena scenarios, and from there you’d have to decide whether or not it was open for fishing or not.

It was a fun game to play, and sometimes you’d beg to play it. When Reed took over the job, he wasn’t as fun with it. Which is understandable. He had to work much faster to catch up on what dad hadn’t taught. So, you went from playing a simple fishing game to having to stand in waist-deep water and fish with a spear. 

Looking back at it now, it’s obvious that was a sort-of training to teach you how to stab with a spear. It’s not like you didn’t know how to already, he was just honing your skills, so to say. Getting you better at it, so when the time did come, you weren’t mediocre and unsure of your abilities.

Really, if you know things thoroughly, you’re bound to be more confident in yourself. If you’re not doubting yourself at every turn, then you can focus on other things instead. Like surviving.

Besides knowing how to work with fishing poles, spears and identifying edible plants that live in water, the last thing that Reed did was teach you how to tie knots until your fingers bled. Really, it was a tedious task to tie the same thing over and over. Always in your ear about each knot having a different purpose. All very important on different occasions. 

You have to admit, that it was hard to pay attention. And now you only know a handful of them still. Which is pretty embarrassing, considering he had to have taught you over fifteen of them. But the ones you do know will do the trick, you know it.

And where you lack in certain skills, Finnick’s sure to make up for them. He might be younger than you, but everyone parent’s different. He’s bound to know some things that your family didn’t even consider, and you’re counting on it.

The door opens now, making you look over from where you’ve been staring at the wall. The peacekeeper says you only have a couple of minutes, lets your family in, and then shuts the door loudly. 

You’re engulfed in arms almost immediately after, pulling you tight against their bodies. 

“You’re going to do just fine, (Y/n).” Reed tells you quietly, cradling your head in his hands, “You know what to do.”

“Right.” you agree, hugging him tightly.

Mox breathes in, and it’s shaky. When he goes to say something, he starts crying again so you pull him into you tightly, next. He doesn’t have to say anything, because you already know what he wants to say. He’s going to miss you, he loves you so much. He doesn’t want you to worry about them.

Focus on yourself.

You hug Alyssum the tightest, and the thought of never getting to see her grow up, sprouts in your mind. You scowl slightly, and hold her a little away from your body to get a better look at her. You can’t recall the amount of times people have told you she was a spitting image of you, when you were her age.

You hope she doesn’t look exactly like you when she’s older. You don’t want her to get the same sad look from people she doesn’t know. It’s been happening to you for months now, people will mistake you for your mother and call out her name when they mean yours. 

Except, it won’t just be from strangers for Alyssum. It very well might be from Reed and Mox too.

“You can win.” Reed says, and that’s enough to make you look at him with wide eyes, “Don’t say you can’t. You can if you believe it. You’ve seen the mistakes that other’s make, and you know not to fall into their traps.”

“The arena’s are always unpredictable, Reed.”

“Then make them predictable.” he says.

Make them predictable.

Before you can say anything else, he pulls something out from his pocket. At first, you don’t recognize what it is at all, because it looks so different. But it dawns on you, and before you know it, your eyes begin to water. It’s your mother’s engagement ring. She never wanted anything too big, so your dad got her something small instead. Something that would represent District Four, while also still be very unique and beautiful.

It’s a dainty silver ring, now polished and free of scratches. On the front is one lone wave. Reed holds it out for you, and you take it to inspect it like it’ll disappear into thin air. It’s a valuable thing, and it must have cost a lot to get it fixed up, considering the old condition. It used to be so dull, so scratched up and aged. But now it looks brand new.

You slide it onto your right ring finger. When you look up to them, the tears begin to gush down your face harshly. Reed and Mox give you one last hug, Alyssum still being too young to understand that this is her goodbye. When Reed steps away, he wipes all the tears from your eyes.

“Don’t cry in front of the camera’s, okay? You’re strong, so show them that.”

You nod, and the doors to the room open. The peacekeepers order your siblings out, and you wave goodbye to Alyssum. The doors shut heavily behind them, the last thing you hear is Mox’s fresh wave of tears. After that, you feel a bit dizzy so you move around the white couch and take a seat on one of the cushions, hugging yourself.

You have a chance. You can win if you try hard enough. You just have to keep thinking like that. Think like you’ll win, and eventually you’ll convince yourself it’ll happen. But if you even consider accepting the fact that this is the end, you’ll ruin it. You’ll end up weak, useless and depressed just like all those other tributes.

The ones who give up early are almost always the ones who die first. So, all you have to do is not be like them. Make an effort, and maybe you’ll stand out to everyone in the Capitol. District Four is already considered a career, so you’ve already got a foot in the door. All you have to do is act like it.

The door opens again, and you mostly expect it to just be the peacekeepers ordering you out. But instead you’re surprised to see Caspian and his mother. You get back onto your feet, and the second you do, Caspian’s mother has her arms open for you.

After your mother died three years ago, Caspian’s mother–Naida–helped your father out for a while. Naida might not have lost her husband, but she knew how hard it would be to raise four kids all by yourself. Two of them teenagers, one of them in elementary school, and the other just a baby.

She would babysit Alyssum while you all were out at school and he was fishing. After school, you’d go to her house to get your homework done. And as soon as you all assured her that it was done, you’d take Alyssum back home and take care of her yourselves. Because of her, Reed passed his senior year with good grades.

And then she was there again months later, when your father died in that fishing accident. She couldn’t feed you four on top of her family, but she was there to help anyway. She helped Reed get that job on the water, and even helped him to get promoted a ton. She did the same for Mox a year later, too.

In a way, she replaced your mother, and then your father. Even if you don’t like Caspian, you love Naida. Anything you could possibly need, she’d be there to help you with.

You hug Naida, blinking a ton when your eyes begin to water again.

“It’s all right.” she says, rubbing your back.

“We’ll take care of your family while you’re gone.” Caspian says, “I’ll be with them the whole time. They’ll be okay.”

“Don’t worry about them while you’re in there.” Naida now holds you at arm’s-length, “Focus on yourself.”

“I know.” you smile, “Thank you.”

Caspian tilts his head for a moment, “I have a good feeling, (Y/n). You’ll be good in the games. We’ll be cheering you on from here.”

Normally, you’d be disgusted by a statement like that. There’s a lot of people in the districts that treat the games like some sort of sport. They’ll even bet on kids, and be disappointed on losing their money when they die, with absolutely no remorse on the actual tribute or family itself. It’s a gross game for them to play, but you can’t exactly say you’re not surprised.

After a while, you either become desensitized or sensitive to it all. 

Naida and Caspian don’t get as much time as your family did. Soon, you’re hugging Naida goodbye and even giving Caspian a side-hug as a farewell. They wish you good luck, knowing that you’ll need it. And then, they’re gone too. Just you alone in the room.

You know for a fact that no one else is going to come to visit. You have close friends from school, but they’re not going to bother the same way that Caspian’s family has. In all honesty, if Finnick hadn’t been pulled too, you’re sure he would be the third group coming to say goodbye.

As soon as the peacekeepers come back to escort you to the car, you take a deep breath and stand tall again. You’re going to be fine. Just two more instances with cameras, and then you’ll be hidden in the train.

The car ride is mostly silent, it’s obvious he’s been crying, so it has to be obvious on your part too. You spend the last couple of minutes in the car wiping your eyes thoroughly and making sure your eyelashes are dry. Elysia leads you from the car, to the train station platform where you get to look out to everyone who’s come to bid you off. 

Up front are your brothers, with Alyssum on Reed’s shoulders. Alyssum waves goodbye with a big smile, while Reed and Mox aren’t even able to pull themselves together long enough to give you one too. Their faces are pulled downwards, they look like they’ve aged twenty years, and you can’t even begin to imagine what’s running through their head.

Since you know you’re on camera, you go ahead and take a moment to wave goodbye too, standing tall. Finnick seems to to follow your example and does the same.

Farewell District Four, you think, it’s been fun.

As soon as you’ve stepped inside of the train with Finnick and Elysia, the doors seal shut behind you. Almost immediately, the train starts moving, making you and Finnick sway, having to catch yourselves on the wall. Elysia isn’t nearly as bothered, she’s used to being on the train several times a year.

You and Finnick share a long look, as if neither of you know what to say. It’s understandable, neither of you ever imagined you’d be going into the Hunger Games. And if you did, it wouldn’t have been when you were fifteen and fourteen years old. Maybe when you were sixteen, seventeen or eighteen. But here you are, two very young tributes.

“Allies?” you ask hopefully. He’s not going to be stupid enough to turn you down. He’s your friend, and he knows that having one person have your back at the start will be another head-start.

You’re both from District Four, you know each other, and if you’re allies then your odds have significantly increased already.

And he definitely knows this, “You don’t even have to ask.” he laughs.

You crack a smile, “Just making sure.”

“Yeah, better safe than sorry.” he agrees.

“Glad to see you two are friendly.” Elysia interrupts, making the two of you look over, “Last year they weren’t so…”

She doesn’t finish her sentence, and she doesn’t have to. She’s completely right, the tributes last year were at odds. They couldn’t agree on anything, and as soon as they got into the arena, it was clear that they weren’t allies either. The boy stayed with District One and Two, while the girl ran off to do her own thing. She got killed a week in, while the boy lasted up until the near-end.

Again, you and Finnick are off to a good start.

“Your rooms are ready.” Elysia says, and then has the two of you follow her to where they are. On the way, she’s kind enough to let you know that you guys will be there in only a couple of hours. As opposed to districts like twelve, six and ten who are pretty far off. Four is much closer.

She shows Finnick off first, making you wait in the hall for a couple of minutes. Then, when she comes back out, she shows you to your own. When she said ‘rooms’ you thought she just meant that Finnick would have a bedroom, and then you would have one too. 

Until she opens up the door, and you’re greeted with three rooms all for you to take. The regular bedroom, with a queen size bed, a chair in the corner of the room. Then the dressing area that has a vanity and a dresser full of expensive clothes that are to your disposal. And finally, the bathroom with a walk-in shower, a separate tub and running hot and cold water.

Just before Elysia leaves, she lets you know that supper will be in an hour and a half, and that’ll be the same time you meet your mentors. After supper is the recap of the reapings, where you’ll be able to assess your competitors, and then you’ll be in the Capitol not too long after that.

The door seals shut behind her, and you turn around to stare into the room.

The room smells clean, like laundry detergent, vanilla and cinnamon. 

The walls are a light blue, playing into the District Four theme, you think. The floor is white carpet, and it looks to be soft and clean. To the right are windows that are above your head, much like the one back home in your bathroom. Except, these ones are devoid of curtains, and they also look like they don’t open either.

In front of you, the bed. The comforter is white, and there’s not a single wrinkle to be seen. At the end of the bed is a plush fleece blanket, with the pattern of a beach. It’s folded to just take up the very end of the bed. It’s probably a spare blanket in the case that you’ll get cold, but you can’t imagine it being very hot at night. With the air conditioning–something you definitely don’t have in your house–it’ll keep the train cool, but not cool enough to make you consider a second blanket.

White pillowcases, to the right is a birch nightstand with a single lamp that you can imagine you’ll be using later tonight. There’s a clock too, the time isn’t important. It’s well past noon at this point. When you open the drawer, you’re greeted with some cheesy book titled ‘Welcome to The Capitol’. When you flip it open, you’re met with the sight of colorful pictures with blocky texts next to them.

Knowing it can’t hurt, you move to the little chair in the corner of the room, leaving the drawer open. The chair is soft to sit on, but the back is the same roughness of a dining room chair. As you flip through the little magazine, you can’t help but to feel angry at it.

It’s been placed here purposely, of course. And the first word that comes to mind is ‘propaganda’. Really, all this is about is telling the tribute that the Capitol isn’t nearly as bad as it seems. With the constant rotating fashion, and the colorful buildings with fun jobs. What it lacks is all the respect towards the districts for allowing all of that ‘fun’ to exist.

They take all the labor from the districts, and give them no credit. They don’t thank the districts that supply their grain, cattle and fruits and vegetables. They don’t thank Eight for the supply of sewing material, or Seven for the lumber or Twelve for their coal.

The only districts that really get rewarded are One and Two. Because District One gives them their diamonds, and rubies, and their fancy furniture all encrusted with their junk. Too expensive to ever be afforded by the poorer districts. And District Two is masonry. Their entire district is a military trip. They supply the weapons for the Hunger Games, and they’re the biggest supplier of peacekeepers too. A lot of people call them the ‘pets’ of the Capitol.

But what happens to District Three? A supplier of technology, transportation and firearms? Or District Five, they give the most power because of a dam in the middle of their district. It’s all unfair, giving the spotlight mostly to the first two districts just because they happen to be the most convenient.

The further you go into the magazine, the worse it gets. Until it immediately strikes you in the heart with a title like ‘You Can Visit When You Win!’. And then it proceeds to list all the brand names–or really, famous stylists–stuff you’ll be able to afford with your monthly income. On top of that, cosmetic surgery to alter anything on your body that you don’t like.

You close it now, and nearly have a heart attack when you see someone.

It’s Finnick, and he’s not even looking at you, he’s got his head in the closet. He flicks the light on, and then wanders inside, “Huh.”

His hair is wet, and it looks like he just came out of the shower with the way the shirt sticks to his back. He probably didn’t bother to dry off all the way. Your brothers have the same habit when they’re rushing out the door. They don’t really care about looking like they have a sweat stain down their back. It’ll only be a matter of time before it’s real.

“You scared me.” you tell him.

He turns around, a smile on his face, “Did I?” he asks, and then he turns the light off on his way out, “What do you think?”

“I hate it.” you hold out the magazine for him to take. He wanders over, running his fingers over the blankets, and then takes it from you. He flips it open, eyebrows skyrocketing.

“That’s bold.” he shows you the page where it says ‘You’ll Never Want to Go Home!’.

“Oh, I know.” you tell him.

He laughs, dumping it right into your drawer and then pushing it shut, “So, you want to stick together the entire time? Like Capitol and arena?”

“Only if you want to.”

“Oh, I do.” he says, “I’m just making sure.” he takes a seat on your bed, “It sucks that we’re both going in.”

You nod, leaning back in the chair, “I was thinking that earlier in the Justice Building. How if I had only been picked, you would have said goodbye and vice versa.”

“At least we get to eat good for a week.” he smiles.

You snort, covering your mouth when you laugh, “Right, and then we get to starve for a couple of weeks.”

He plays with a bracelet on his right wrist. It’s made out of some brown hemp rope. It’s braided, and it’s a little frayed in areas. You can’t imagine how itchy it must be, it’s not exactly a soft material. Either way, he doesn’t seem to mind it.

Finnick seems like he’s zoning out, and you don’t bother to snap him out of it. It’s not an uncomfortable silence that the two of you settle in. All you do is stare at the painting across from you, to the left of the closet doorway. If this room had a theme to it, it would be ‘sailor’ or some sort of beach house.

“Guess that means we should eat a lot at dinner, huh?” Finnick says, and you look over, “Eat a lot, and we’ll gain weight that wasn’t on our bodies before. So while we’re in there, we won’t be burning ‘our’ body weight.”

You nod, “That’s not a bad idea, actually.”

He grins, “See? I’m helpful already.”

“Guess my turn is next. I know Mags is my mentor, but who’s yours?”

“Probably Anchor, maybe Luther. I don’t think Scotch would bother.”

“Me neither.” you agree.

Scotch isn’t really the hands-on type. He didn’t even mentor Anchor, it was all Luther, you think. Mags and Luther really need a break when it comes to these things, they’ve been doing it for years, and they’ve only got two victors from it all. You know you’d be depressed.

“Well, you should probably take a shower before supper.” he stands from the bed, “Not that you stink or anything. The shower is pretty cool, and the clothes are neat too.” he motions to the closet on his way out, “I just stopped to say hi.”

“Thanks.” you tell him, “I’ll see you in an hour or whatever.”

“Yup.” he says, and then slides out of the room.

The door shuts again, and you think it wouldn’t hurt to take a shower. You play with the ring on your finger, not exactly used to the feeling of it just yet. When you step inside of the closet, you realize just how much they did for you. Or rather, the female tributes.

You go ahead and take your time going through the drawers. You find a light blue tank top with a criss-cross back. And later, a pair of white shorts with three silver buttons instead of a zipper. On a shoe rack is a pair of white sandals, so you scoop those up and start your way towards the bathroom.

The bathroom seems to keep the seashell and beach theme pretty well. A clear vase on the counter is filled to the top with seashells, sand and pearls. There’s beige towels for you to take. So, you set your outfit onto the counter, to the left of it is your towel, and in a little bowl next to the vase, you place the ring.

You start the shower beforehand, turning it to the warm setting. You expect for it to take a moment, but warm water comes from the showerhead almost immediately. You slip off your black flats, unpin your hair and unzip your dress and pull off everything else.

The shower feels nice on your skin, and for a moment, you stand beneath the running water with your eyes closed. Because District Four is against the west coast of Panem, it means that rain clouds come and go pretty often. Everyone will always be able to tell if it’s a rainy day just by the tell of the clouds and wind on early mornings.

Those are the days you pull on your old rain shoes and coat, and your brothers spare you the umbrella. You always hug them goodbye tighter on those days, because the water is going to be choppier, and therefore more dangerous. There’s hardly outdoor time during school, so you spend the entire day inside until the end of the day.

And because you were never in a hurry to get home, you’d take the longest path ever just to make sure you’d get the most time in the rain. Even if you’re beneath the umbrella, you like the sound of the rain on the plastic, and watching it run down the top and to the edges where the water drips off in streams.

Funnily enough, Finnick would walk with you every now and then too. You’d walk him home first, since you didn’t want him to walk back in the rain and get a cold. He’d always send you off with some sort of goodie that his mom had packed into a cute package for your family. And then you’d walk back home, trying to keep it warm beneath your coat. Those nights, that would be your treat after dinner.

You scrub your body clean for a second time, but skip over your hair to keep it from getting frizzy. You dry off your body, slowly slipping on your clothes to make sure that they don’t stick to your body too heinously. You open the door to the bathroom to allow the steam out and for the mirror to clear up.

As you rummage through the drawers, Elysia comes into your room. She looks pleasantly surprised to actually see you in the bathroom, and kindly informs you that supper is ready. Which only means that you had taken a long ass shower.

You squeeze a lot of water out of your hair with the towel, and then gather it all up for a ponytail after. You move your head around to loosen up some tight areas, and as soon as you’re done, you slip the ring back onto your finger and allow Elysia to lead you to the dining compartment. On the way, she corrals Finnick, too.

Mags and Anchor are already sitting at the table when you enter the room. The table is round with five seats around it. At the ‘top’ sits Elysia, on her left is Mags and on her right is Anchor. Which leaves two seats at the ‘bottom’ for you and Finnick. Really, imagine the formation of a star.

You take the seat by Mags, and Finnick takes the only option left. Before food is begun to be served, Elysia tells you that it will keep coming, so eat slowly and don’t take too much. But with what Finnick brought up earlier, you know that you’re going to end up doing the opposite.

The first thing served is a salad, which is pretty light. But it only gets heavier, as she promised. Next is a stew, with beef, carrots, green beans, peas and so much more, with the side of rice. Mags tells you that it’s best if you stir the soup and rice together, so you go ahead and do just that.

After the small soup, is pasta and white sauce and chicken. While you’re eating, and even moving to grab a second helping, all you can think about is all the protein you’ll be getting. You eat just fine on most days back home during dinnertime. But for breakfast and lunch, it’s bread and water.

You keep drinking water through it all, grateful that it’s so unlimited, but knowing that eventually you’ll have to use the bathroom with how much you’re taking in. The water here seems sweeter than back home. And Finnick looks like he’s noticed this too.

Finally, vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce is dropped off in front of you guys, the last course of the meal. For a moment, you think it’ll be easy to eat it, because it’s been easy the entire time. But the second you’ve taken your first scoop, you realize just how sick you’ve begun to feel.

“The food is rich.” Anchor says, “Give your body a moment, the ice cream isn’t going anywhere.”

You can’t remember the last time you’ve had a treat like this. If you were to guess, it would have to be before your mom died, because back then, your dad and her were working at the same time. Which means they’d be able to afford luxury items like this from the local parlor, that’s located right next to the bakery, and fabric store, and so on. 

Shops you’ve never been able to afford even now with both of your brothers working overtime. It’s a dream, and if you were to ever bring it up to either of them, they would have laughed in your face.

When your stomach has settled a little, you go ahead and finish off the last meal. It’s sweet, and sugary, and you can feel a rush coming on. You’re full, and it’s the fullest you’ve ever been in your life. You can’t help but to feel guilty though, knowing that your brothers and sister back home are probably mourning the empty seat at the dinner table.

Then again, Naida and Caspian did promise to take care of them. And Caspian said that he’d be with them all the time. So, you hope that they either had dinner all together, or Caspian is sitting in your seat to fill the spot. 

Soon, you’re moving to a different train car to go and watch the recap of this year’s reapings. They’re typically staggered throughout the day to allow everyone to watch them in order of when they happen. But it’s only realistic for the Capitol citizens to be able to do that, since the districts tend to be worrying about the reapings itself and looking presentable for them.

Anchor takes a seat by you, elbow on the arm of the couch, leaning his head against his first. He won the sixty-first Hunger Games, starting a streak for the careers. A female from Two, the siblings from One, and hopefully, now either you or Finnick. You can’t help but to feel remorse for all the other districts, they don’t nearly get as many victors as you three combined do.

Naturally, it starts with District One. The Capitol Representative calls a name, but the girl doesn’t even get the chance to step out until someone else is volunteering. When the volunteer gets to the stage, you’re almost appalled at the sight of her. She proudly states her name is Trink, and then turns to her district with a grin.

She’s tall, and she’s muscly too. Every time she moves, the sunlight catches how defined they are, and the shadows accentuate it even more. She’s got blonde hair that’s been manipulated into curls. She’s pretty, as most tributes from District One are. And typically, the prettier you are, the more of an advantage you have inside of the Capitol.

With her is a boy with tan skin and a mean smile. He’s nowhere near as impressive as Trink, muscle-wise, but he easily towers over her. He’s got dark hair, and he’s pretty too. Lennox, is his name. And you make note of them, because you might be expected to be allies with them.

If you were to guess their ages, judging by the angle of the cameras and where they came from, Trink is at least sixteen, and Lennox is the same age as her, or seventeen.

District Two is the only other district that you know for sure you’ve got to keep an eye on. The girl is much taller than the boy this time around. She stands her full height, baring her chest. Her thick brown hair crowds her face, but that doesn’t stop her from grinning. The dress she wears is incredibly too short and shows off a lot of her legs. Her name is Eytelle.

As for the boy, he’s a volunteer and he makes sure that the crowd knows his name; Allio. He looks tough, gritting his teeth so that it shows off his jawline. Again, the prettier you are, the more likely you’re bound to be liked in the Capitol. And there’s a sick reasoning behind it, which you’d rather think about later and not when you’re full.

District Three is a blur. A dark haired boy and a girl that starts crying the second she’s on the stage. That’s a mistake on her part, showing weakness like that is a turn off, and a set back. You won’t be surprised when she gets little to no sponsors inside of the arena.

Of course, now you’ve got to watch yourself and Finnick get picked. You can’t help the sigh that escapes you, and Finnick leans in on his knees, seemingly feeling the same was as you.

You feel yourself reliving the moment. Elysia takes her time, picks your name and calls it. It’s a second or two before you actually emerge, head turning straight for your family. But it could easily be mistaken for you looking at the peacekeepers. It’s funny how what felt like an eternity to you, was only a couple of seconds for them.

And you’re grateful for that, actually.

You’re marched up to the stage of course, take the hand of Elysia and then you’re stopped in front of the girls bowl. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say you belong in the career pack already. With Reed’s directions for you to stand taller, you almost look proud like the others already.

When Finnick comes down the path, he’s just as strict as you are. Side by side on the stage, it’s obvious the two of you are still very much children. And it’s also clear that you two are friends when Elysia moves out of the way and the two of you shake hands without a single word from her. How comfortable the two of you are.

You try your best to find anything, anything interesting about the other eight districts but it’s a struggle. The only two that stand out to you are possibly the tributes from Seven, and that’s because they maybe know how to wield axes. None of them seem threatening at all, which you’re glad for. 

It’s a sick thought, but the less threatening they are, the faster they’ll die. The easier they will be to kill.

And just like that, Elysia snaps the tv off, and you’re left sitting in silence with everyone.

“Well?” Anchor asks, looking over to you and Finnick.

You’re already staring at Finnick, and he’s doing the same. You tilt your head slightly towards the tv, “Might as well take advantage of the careers while we can, don’t you think?”

“Wouldn’t hurt.” he agrees, “Tributes from One seem to be the ones we should be looking out for. The girl is bigger than usual, so she’s going to pose a bigger threat.”

“They should be the first to go if we can make it happen. Them and the boy from Two, the girl I could care less about.”

“Right.” Finnick says, “That means we’ll need a second-hand alliance.”

You look at him, shaking your head.

“No?” he asks.

“I’d say we make an alliance within our alliance.” You raise an eyebrow, and Finnick hims, a smile spreading over his face.

“Clever.”

“Well, someone has to be.”

Finnick snorts, bumping your shoulder with his, “See anyone else that you think would be worth allying with?”

“District Seven.” you say, and Finnick’s nodding right along.

“Looks like we think alike.”

Butter smooth.


	3. Chapter 3

The beds inside of the Capitol are definitely comfortable. Had today’s events not happened at all, you’re sure that you would have fallen asleep well before your head even hit the pillow. Instead, you find yourself staring at the pristine white ceiling, head flooded with thoughts that refuse to leave.

You’re here. Starting now, you’ve got an entire week to prove why you deserved to be sponsored, as opposed to their trusty District One and Two tributes. A fifteen year old girl, from the poorest part of District Four, paired with a fourteen year old boy. Two very young tributes that already have the odds stacked against them.

Slowly but surely, you’ve been finding your way through the cracks, but eventually there won’t be room for you to slip through anymore. You’re going to get stuck, it’s just a matter of time before it happens. You know you have to look on the brightside, but pointing out the obvious doesn’t hurt much.

For now, you guess you’ll just have to make the most of it.

You can’t be the only one with a nasty case of insomnia. You’d take a bet right now that Finnick isn’t asleep either. Maybe he isn’t staring at the ceiling, and instead he’s staring out his window. Either way, he’s awake and he can’t fall asleep because the terror is clawing at the back of his mind.

You’re not sure what’s worse, being alone with just your thoughts now. Or knowing that back home, your family is in just as much agony as you are. Alyssum is alone in that room by herself if Reed and Mox didn’t move the crib to their room. Reed isn’t going to sleep at all, and the only reason why Mox has fallen asleep is because his body is exhausted from all the crying.

But don’t be fooled, he’ll be up in a few hours, crying from a nightmare, waking up in a room all by himself. You can see it now, Mox burying his face in his hands as he tries to quiet down for the sake of Reed. Reed won’t show it, but he’s in just as much pain as Mox is. Over the years, he just formed a mindset that since he’s the oldest, he’s got to be the strongest too.

Of course, he’ll have his moments where he breaks down too, but it isn’t as often. He lets it build up a lot over time, and sometimes you won’t even know when he’s had his moment. You’ll just be able to tell afterward because he’s much more loose for a couple of weeks. Sooner or later though, he begins to get hard again.

You can’t take it anymore.

You throw the white comforter from your body, sliding off of the bed. On the nightstand, you swipe the silver engagement ring and move around the bed to go and sit in front of the window. It’s not very lively out there anymore since the clock is telling you it’s close to two in the morning. Earlier, when you had first arrived, it was a lot more exciting.

After you and Finnick had watched it the first time, you two went ahead and watched it a second time too, just to make sure you hadn’t missed anything the first time around. Halfway through, Mags and Anchor left with Elysia to go talk about something. You and him didn’t seem to find anything new, just agreed on the fact that the first two districts and Seven would be the ones to watch out for.

Of course, you and him will be watching all the other tributes too, especially during training, just in case there are some skills that the others have that you should take note of. Other than that, the plan is to make an alliance with the other two thirds of the careers, and win.

You guys came into the Capitol train station around nine and were greeted with colorful people and cheering. You and Finnick faked excitement and waved and tried to look good. But as soon as you were shoveled into the car with Elysia, Mags and Anchor, the act deflated and you felt exhausted.

You got signed in at the Tribute Center, and then went straight to your apartment in the building. Elysia didn’t even give you real time to talk to Mags and Anchor, she just sent the two of you straight to bed because of how late it was. Neither of you complained, but you knew the second you got into your room, that sleep wouldn’t be happening. Not with the cheering outside of your window.

The city is pretty dead at the moment, everyone is asleep in their fancy homes. The occasional car will come through the narrow road, but that’s about it. 

Tomorrow is a big day, your first real debut in front of people. You’ll get to meet your stylist and prep team, and then take a chariot ride with Finnick to the President’s mansion. Every single thing you do on that chariot will matter. How grateful you are, how indifferent you are. It all will secure your future on how you should act.

Mags will hopefully settle all of that for you, push you in a direction that will actually matter. She’s been doing this for years, she’ll understand if you need to play up an act or not. Being yourself would be the easiest route to take, of course. At least then there will be no chances of you slipping up or whatever.

However, you don’t want to become completely unrecognizable to everyone back home. They’ll understand that you’re doing what you have to, but it’ll be a little disgusting when you never hear the end of it. You’ll get praise for becoming a victor, but some will shoot you down because being yourself apparently wasn’t good enough.

You can never really win.

Slipping the ring off, you hold it out and in the moonlight to get a better look at it. You’d rather not turn on the light and accidentally alert anyone that you were awake at this ungodly hour. Whoever’s awake would tell Elysia, and then you’d never hear the end of it from her. And you’d probably get a headache in the process.

You can’t actually remember any instance in which your mom did wear this ring. She had her wedding ring on all the time, you know that. But she got married before you were born, so she probably stopped wearing it when she got married. You remember seeing it in her jewelry box on her dresser, though.

She used to let you sit on the bed and play with the rings when she got ready for important things. None of which you actually went with her. She only really dressed up for fancy dinners with dad, her colleagues and her boss. One time, you brought out the engagement ring and asked her the meaning of it, since it was tucked away in a special compartment.

And she told you. It was the ring your dad proposed with, the ring she said yes to. She told you that she never liked the diamonds, they were expensive and unrealistic. Instead, she wanted a simple silver band and she had been saying it for years. So, your dad got her the ring of her dreams, and eventually the wedding ring too.

After mom died, you stopped going into the room to sit on the bed and go through her jewelry. It wasn’t a game you were willing to play with your dad. You were always afraid that he was breakable, and one mention of your poor mother would send him in a spiral. He was strong, surprisingly held all of you together despite the fact that Reed had begun to get a little rebellious.

And then he died too, and you stopped going into the room altogether unless it were an emergency. Certain things in that room have gone untouched for a long time, except the wardrobe. That had your mom’s pretty dresses and your dad’s formal shirts and such. Actually, your mom’s jewelry box seems to be an exception too, considering you’ve got the ring.

But other than that, everything in the room would be disgusting to touch. Years of dust built up on the dresser, the bed, the desk and lamps and everything in there. You slammed the doors a little too hard yesterday, and it sent so much dust flying into the air that it’s probably taken all day to settle.

You wonder if your room will turn into the same untouched graveyard if you die in the arena. If Reed and Mox will insist to sleep on the couch so she can have their old room so that yours will be nearly perfectly preserved in time. Your bed unmade, your school backpack open on the floor next to the desk. Projects you were working on, things you had made at school.

You can’t die in there. Your brothers are strong, but not that strong.

You press your forehead against the cold window, closing your eyes. You wish you were back home. You’d take a lifetime of fishing and spearing and tying knots until your fingers were mangled over this. If you win and come back, you’ll never be looked at the same way, be treated the same way, live the same way or even think the same way at all.

Your life is going to be turned upside down and you’ll have no choice but to just live with it.

Yawning, you push yourself up from the carpeted floor and drag your feet when it comes to going back to bed. You place the ring back onto the nightstand, and hope that you’ll at least get an hour of sleep in.

–

It’s morning before you even realize it. You’re up much before Elysia comes in to tell you it’s a big day. She tells you to spare the shower, just get dressed and be out for breakfast. Today is a big day, after all.

After putting the ring on, you make your way out to the dining room, where everyone except Finnick, already sits. You take a random seat at the table, not too worried about formation. You’re hungry, and you’ve been waiting a while for an acceptable time to go out and eat.

The avoxes serve food immediately. You avoid looking at them, not liking how terrifying their outfits are. Last night when you came in, you thought that you’d been seeing shadows. As soon as you got up close, you didn’t think it was much better. Finnick didn’t look too thrilled with their costumes, either.

The first thing that’s served is pancakes, a healthy serving of eggs and what you can only imagine is bacon, which you’ve never had before. Just looking at it, is a giveaway that it’s greasy and something that you’ll never get at home. Next to the bakery is the butcher, also an overpriced place to buy.

The Square isn’t much better either. It’s the best place to shop if you can’t afford certain things, of course. Body wash, shampoo, things for your house, jugs of clean water and very, very cheap vegetables. However, the times that people bring in wild pigs are the times you send your brothers in. 

Watching people just hack off bits of meat as they please is not only gruesome, but sickening too. You don’t mind the fact that it’s dead, it’s just watching the knives not making it all the way through the skin and fat the first time they swing makes you a little nauseous. As the years come, you’ve begun to stomach it a lot more. But the thought alone still makes you wary.

The bacon is sweet, nothing at all like you’ve expected. You watch as Mags brings a bowl of chilled fruit in her direction, helping on strawberries, bananas and blueberries on top of her pancakes.

“Makes it healthier.” she winks, and then takes her time cutting up the pancakes.

“Really, it just makes it taste better.” Anchor says, “They don’t have maple syrup today, which is a shame. It’s my favorite.” he brings over the fruit bowl nearest to him.

He and Mags are already dressed for today’s events, which makes you feel underdressed, even if Elysia told you not to bother. Wearing yesterday’s tank top and shorts makes you feel dirty.

Finnick then comes out of the hallway, hair all sorts of messed up. As soon as he sees you at the table, there’s a smile on his face. Without missing a beat, he takes a seat next to you and as soon as there’s food in front of him, he starts eating. By the time you’ve finished your eggs, he’s through a whole plate and has already moved onto ham, hashbrowns and more bacon.

For a while, you’re impressed by the fact he eats like he hasn’t eaten in days. One plate after another, until he begins to slow down and turn green. He leans back in his chair, the back of his hand pressed to his forehead. You sputter out a laugh, shaking your head as you eat a piece of pancake.

“Hungry?” you tease, he gives you a sheepish smile.

“I’ve been waiting hours to eat. I didn’t sleep well at all, last night.”

Just as you expected, you think you deserve a few extra points for that one. Even though it was fairly obvious, it was still a good call. You think most tributes don’t sleep well at all on the first two days. But then the exhaustion kicks in and after that they sleep well, only to be messed up again when they go into the arena.

You find yourself looking forward to a good night of sleep. Whatever will keep you from being sleep deprived inside of the games.

“You should probably have coffee, then.” Anchor says, “Not a lot, otherwise you’ll make yourself feel more sick. But enough to give you a jolt.”

Anchor motions towards the avox, and you move to grab the glass of orange juice. As soon as you’ve taken a sip, you make a face, because the taste isn’t exactly pleasant. But it’s expensive back home, and if you do end up winning, you’d love to tell your brothers about all the foods you tasted, and how they need to taste them too. 

Finnick is a little apprehensive when it comes to actually drinking the coffee. He dabbles in it for a moment, and you’re sure that he’s afraid of the heat. But he was testing the taste of it, and you realize it the second he starts to chug it down.

“Finnick…” you trail, he sets down the cup, winces and smiles.

“It tastes so good.”

Elysia sputters out a laugh, covering her mouth when she does. Mags breaks out a smile, sipping her orange juice. She’s got crinkles at the corner of her eyes, showing her age and how often she must smile. It’s nice to know that she hasn’t let the disappointment of watching years worth of tributes die. 

If you were in her position, you’re sure you would have holed yourself up in your house by now. Because there’s absolutely no way you’d be able to show your face after a while. The amount of guilt that she must have for not bringing home more tributes, watching all of them die.

You don’t ever want to be in her position, but a part of you hopes you win solely for the fact that you’d get to replace her. She deserves to retire.

“The grooming process is going to be painful.” Mags says, how appealing, “But you have to sit through it. Don’t complain. Don’t resist.”

“Sounds easily enough.” Finnick says.

“You’d be surprised.” Anchor mutters.

You pick apart a sweet roll in silence. This is probably the part where they try to make you look as attractive as possible. Even though the two of you are young, the more beautiful you are, the more sponsors that’ll come through. You shouldn’t want to be unattractive, ever in your life. But now’s a crucial part.

After you’re done eating, Elysia takes you and Finnick down to what’s called the Remake Center. Elysia splits you two off, heading in different directions while she disappears entirely, leaving you in the hands of your prep team.

A girl named Cleo, with dirty blond hair and pink makeup, is the most talkative out of the three. At the beginning, she’s kind enough to tell you that they’re going to be as gentle as possible with everything that they do. And right after saying that, launches into starting to wax your legs.

It’s a painful process. You grip the edges of the cold, metal table and grit your teeth through it. After every strip is an apology, but after a while it stops being so heartfelt as they seem to enter ‘the zone’. Next comes the shaving, and the plucking and reshaping.

They scrub your body down multiple times, removing all the dirt that has seemingly become just a part of your skin. You watch it all wash down the drain in amazement. Your skin stings painfully, and Cleo reassures you that they’ll get to it eventually, they just have to finish what they’re doing.

A girl names Beth with dark curly hair and a quiet voice takes care of your hair. By the time she’s done with it, it’s silky smooth and smells of strawberries. She dries it completely, and tells you not to touch it at all, she’ll get to styling it after you meet your stylist.

The only boy of the three stands in front of you, staring straight at your face. For a moment, you think it’s an intimidation tactic, but then he smiles. His name is Leo, he’s got orange hair and he’s dressed in gold, “I’m done here.”

“So am I.” Beth agrees, taking a seat in a chair that looks much more comfortable than the steel table you’re sitting on.

“Well, we got everything, didn’t we?” Cleo asks, reaching for an electronic that they’ve been passing through. Then, she goes down a checklist, “Eyebrows, teeth, eyelashes, nails, every place with hair, her hair.” she tilts her head, “I think we’ve done it.”

“Well, let’s grease her down and then make the final touches.” Leo says, Beth nods her head.

All together, they spread lotion over your body. At first, it stings your body pretty harshly, but then there’s a cooling sensation that settles over your skin. As soon as they’re done, they then take one very last look at you, plucking any hair that they had missed the first time around.

And then they send you into a room all by yourself, with nothing to wear. On the hook on the wall to the left, there’s a light blue robe with your last name printed clearly on the breast. You can imagine that you’ll be wearing it later.

You swing your feet, humming a light tune to yourself while you wait. Staring at the wall, you try to picture yourself winning the games. Whatever the arena may be, it’s you who’s standing alone, the camera’s panning around you, a congratulations sounding over the arena. (Y/n) Gallows of District Four.

Reed would probably cry for once, right there in front of everyone. Him and Mox would be so relieved that it’s not funny. And as soon as you’d come home from the Capitol, they’d hold you tightly. You’re not sure you’d even last a second on the train station, you’d probably just jump right off and into their arms, just glad to be with them again.

The only door to the room opens, making you look over. In the doorway stands a very tall woman with tan skin. Her dark hair is pinned back to keep it out of her face. She’s got a black suit on with a white undershirt. It’s all ironed neatly, a crease in her pants to show it. She wears a black heels that she slips off almost as soon as she’s fully entered the room.

It only lowers her height just a little. She’s naturally tall, and has to be on the verge of being six foot or over. It looks like she’s not embarrassed over it at all, instead proud, willing to make herself bigger. All of the tall girls at your school would die to be shorter, while she’s the complete opposite, priding herself in it.

“I’m Laurel.” she says, her voice is smooth and she leaves just a crack in the door, “Stand for me.”

You slip off the table, stretching your shoulders a bit when you do. She takes a walk around you, looking over every inch of your body. Every now and then she’ll move something. Like your hair behind or in front of your shoulders. She’s picked up your hands already to investigate your nails.

Sometimes she’ll stop and stare, like she’s taking it into consideration, and then she’ll move again, “Go ahead and take your robe.”

On the way out of the room, she grabs the backs of her heels with one hand, and exits the room. You take your time with pulling on the silky blue robe, loosely tying it at the front. You cross your arms over your chest naturally, following her to the nice couch. She takes a seat first, and motions for you to do the same.

You tuck the robe beneath you as you sit.

As soon as you’ve sat down, she presses a button on the long table before you. Up comes a second part of it, every inch of it covered in food, “Help yourself. I just ate.”

You’re careful with what you grab, trying to find things that won’t make you sick. Sometime last night when you were tossing and turning on the bed, you realized that the food here is richer than what’s at home. Here, there’s so many flavors that you’ve never experienced before. Back home, it’s all mild. 

So, you grab a small portion of chicken, a good part of vegetables and mashed potatoes. Laurel doesn’t really watch you while you eat, more the open window beside the two of you.

“How do you feel about matching outfits?” she asks politely, still not looking over.

“Depends.” you say, lowering the plate a little, “How revealing is it going to be?”

She looks over now, “Compared to the years before you, I’d say modest.”

That’s already a relief, the girl last year had fake starfish suction-cupped to her boobs, and wore a mermaid tail. It was beautifully made, most of it was holographic and in the sun it shimmered. It was the fact that she was exposed up top entirely. To be fair, she was like two years older than you, so it was more… appropriate for her to wear something like that.

Actually, thinking about it, wasn’t Laurel the stylist?

You look at her to see she’s studying your face.

“You’re the one that designed that outfit.” you say, “The mermaid one.”

She nods, eyebrows raised as if she didn’t expect you to realize such a thing. A lot of people back home see the faces of the stylists. Some are around for plenty of years, others get replaced immediately. It just depends on creativity and whether or not you pull in interest.

“It was clever, but nothing I would want to wear.” you finish off your plate, gently setting it onto the glass. You completely ignore the golden colored pudding off to the far right, not interested in stuffing yourself full. 

“Why not?” Laurel asks.

“Because I’m fifteen, and my brother’s would have a meltdown.” you fold your arms across your chest again, “Not how I would want to be remembered, either if I do die.”

“Well, you’re going to be in something resembling a bathing suit. It covers enough skin, but it’ll draw in attention.”

Bathing suits are on the line, but you smile and nod. After she makes sure you’re done, she leads you to the dressing room. There, you’re prepared for the chariot ride.

A couple hours later, you find yourself side-by-side with Finnick, who looks eerily similar to what you look like at the moment. He’s got a white tunic around his waist, all bunched up off to one side to reveal his legs. Absolutely no shirt. His stylist, Pleurisy, had decided to go ahead and cover him in vines, both real and fake.

It’s supposed to look like he’s either a statue or just came out of the water, much like the Greek God Poseidon. You’d like to say that they got it pretty well, he’s got the looks for it. Never in a day in your life did you think you’d be calling Finnick attractive.

Then again, you didn’t think that you’d be going into the Hunger Games either. Seems like a lot of things are happening all at once now.

As a joke, you suggested dying Finnick’s skin a blue-green to submerge the idea that he came out of the water, even more. For a moment, you watched in amusement—and him in horror—as Pleurisy considered the idea. She even had a full-length conversation with Laurel about it and whether or not it would be allowed, since it is a body modification.

However, the conversation ended abruptly when Finnick loudly declared that he wouldn’t want to be caught being a shade of green. After, he glared at you but he couldn’t hold it for long. Soon, he was laughing and even jabbed you in the ribs for attempting to sabotage him like that. In all honesty, had they gone through with it, he probably would have caught the eyes of sponsors.

Too bad there wasn’t enough time for it, either.

You and him are wearing nearly the same pair of leather sandals. While his surrounds his calves in a ladder pattern and stops just below the knee, yours only go up to your ankles. 

And Laurel seemed to take your concern into consideration. You watched as Cleo had wheeled out an actual bathing suit, the shade of teal, and came back with a similar Greek-Roman-esque clothing that Finnick is wearing. It’s white, and still resembles the idea of a bathing suit, but it manages to cover more skin.

For starters, it’s a tube top, starting below your collarbones and stopping around your upper ribs. The bottom part is tight to keep it secured to your body, because there’s no straps holding it in place, around your shoulders. The second layer of fabric is much more loose, still bunched up. But it hands down.

And the bottom half is basically a skirt with the same premise. You had to sit tight while they glued the vines to your skin, clipping and adding leaves to where they needed them to be. And instead of blue makeup, they went green to keep the theme going.

Anyway, Beth fixed a headband on your head to keep your hair out of your face for the most part. Then came diamond earrings, an expensive pearl necklace and bracelets. By the time you were done, you had to admit that you’re wearing at least hundreds of years worth of rent back home. 

Sell all of this, and you’d be able to buy a victor home and still pay rent for years to come.

Then came the wave bracelet on your upper arm, and you waited around as they made finishing touches to everything. You looked in the mirror once, and then had to look twice because on the other side, stood a stranger. When you first went out to meet everyone else, Finnick didn’t recognize you either.

“I feel so heavy.” You tell Finnick as you take a walk around to get a better feel of what you’re wearing.”

“I bet.” Finnick laughs.

Laurel and Pleurisy make small adjustments to the two of you as time goes on to make sure it all flows better. Before you know it, you and Finnick are being brought onto the chariot, minutes away from the tribute parade. You’re not normally nervous around crowds, but practically the entire Capitol population and everyone back home and more, is going to be watching.

Your brothers, sister, Casoian, and Naida and everyone from school is going to see you like this. So completely different that they’ll have to squint to even see who you were yesterday. You looked poor then, dressed in a dress that didn’t even belong to you, with dirty shoes and a plain face. Now, you have pearls and diamonds, and you’re showing more skin than you’d even dare to. Now you look like you belong in the Capitol. 

It’s supposed to be a good thing, but you find yourself fearing losing who you were. You don’t want to be showered in riches. You want to be normal when this is all over. That magazine in the train did absolutely nothing to convince you, just turned you away more.

(Y/n) Gallows of District Four. Won the Hunger Games at fifteen, and lost herself in the process. What happened? She became one of them, a drooling pet of the Capitol. Just like everyone else who rose to her place.

You shiver.

“Are you cold?” Finnick asks, “I could wrap my arm around you.”

His bare skin on yours? That’ll drive people nuts, make rumors fly everywhere, especially back home. You can see the way Reed will scowl, “No, I’m fine.”

Just before the horses take off, Laurel moves forward, and changes the way the two of you are at the moment. So much for avoiding skin-on-skin.

She makes your right arm go under Finnick’s left one to hold onto it. Then, your left hand goes on top to make it look like he’s offered his elbow to you. And you are nothing but a damsel, holding on. Maybe you were wrong at the reaping. You thought that you’d be the one playing that part, and here you are, still following everything by the book.

You’re told not to move your right arm, no matter the circumstance. Your left one is free to wave and do whatever you see fit. The chariots start to move, and you steady yourself with grabbing off to the side. But soon let go as you get your legs back.

Finnick is surprisingly warm, he was right to offer to put his arm around you. If you had been cold, you wouldn’t have been for much longer. Even now you feel a little ridiculous, he’s practically a furnace. And you almost feel bad for how cold your fingers are. You can’t tell if he notices or not, though.

“This is so exciting.” Finnick let’s out a gentle laugh, a smile creeping over his face, “Don’t you think?”

“Actually, I’m a bit nervous.” You admit.

He looks over then, watching your face with furrowed eyebrows. For a moment, you feel like you said something heinous. But then he finally speaks.

“You’re not kidding?”

You’re next to draw your eyebrows in, is this a trick question? “No?”

He shakes his head, looking off to the side. You can already see the end of the tunnel. You think he’s going to keep whatever he’s thinking to himself, but again, he speaks.

“You can’t tell me this isn’t any different than the reaping. The only thing that’s changed is the crowd. There’s still cameras and thousands of people watching. The real thing you’re worried about is performing well.” Finnick says.

You open your mouth, going to say that it’s not like that. But then you realize that it is, it’s exactly like that. Before you were too shocked to care about the cameras, you were worried for your brothers and the fact that you’d be going into the Hunger Games with a friend. Now, you know that every move you make or don’t could make a huge difference.

One mess up and it could very well mean the difference between life and death, even now. 

The sun shines down onto the blonde horses first as you emerge from the base floor of the Remake Center. From here, you can see the people in the stands, cheering already at the first chariot. They’re not going to see you for a moment, you’re three districts behind. But as soon as you’re as far in as the first drummers, there will be eyes on you.

“Hey.” Finnick says, catching your attention. When you look over you can see a perfect white cube between his fingers, “Want a sugar cube?”

You hold out your hand, and he drops it in your palm, “Where did you even get this?”

“Saw the horse tamers handing them out to the horses.” he shrugs, “Snagged a few.”

“Pure sugar, huh?” you ask, lifting it in front of you. The sun catches the little sugar crystals, light bouncing off. After you’re done turning it over, you and him share a look before popping the cubes into your mouths.

It’s pure sweetness. Better than the ice cream you had on the train. It starts in the middle of your mouth, but slowly melts and takes over your entire tongue. Your mouth waters, waiting for more. But it’s a quick treat, and it was a good one.

With a smile on your face now, you lift your hand to wave to your side of the crowd. On your way back, you’ll be able to wave at the other side too. They’ll equally get to take a look at your chariot outfit and decide whether or not it was a good enough debut. Or they’ll take one good look at your body and decide from there. 

The cheering from the crowd is loud, constantly overlapping each other. They’ll cover their mouths, clap, throw affections towards you guys. Whatever to get your attention, and to every flower thrown, you make sure to look at the Capitol person. If they think it’s personal, they’ll be more likely to like you. Singling them out makes them think you two had a moment together.

Then, you hear your name called. With wide eyes, your head turns in the direction, completely shocked someone would do the same to you. You spot the person in the crowd easily, wearing a sea green outfit from head to toe, the man has dark hair and a mustache. He blows you a kiss, and suddenly you don’t feel as enthusiastic anymore.

Still, you pretend to catch it, giving him a polite smile and waving before you’ve moved on to the next person. The closer you get to City Circle, the more you can feel the smile fading. It could have very well been an innocent interaction, but your mind wanders to all those times victors have spent extra time in the Capitol after their win.

“What’s the matter?” Finnick asks, “You’re pretty pale.”

One glance up at the big screen to your left confirms what Finnick said. You’ve lost color in your face, the smile is completely gone and you almost look indifferent to this whole thing. It’s not exactly a bad thing to be indifferent, sometimes the Capitol citizens love a tribute like that, especially when the tribute thinks they’re going to win. But this is different.

You lean into Finnick, placing a smile on your face as you turn your head over your shoulders. He leans in to hear you, “Just watched a grown man blow me a kiss. Pretend to laugh.”

He does, and you listen as a few people call your names. But the second you look forward again, the two of you are sharing the same worrying look in your eyes. Still, you laugh a bit and go back to waving. It isn’t much distance now, half a stand to go before you get a break.

For as long as you can, you solely pay attention to the ones that don’t seem creepy at all. Even one weird look from them, and you’re turning your attention to the next person. People seem captivated by the idea of you sharing an intimate moment with Finnick like that, leaning your head on his shoulder and whispering something. Too bad for them, it wasn’t anything good.

The chariots fill the loop of the Circle, and with curious eyes, you go ahead and look over the windows of the president’s mansion to find that most of them are packed with expensive-looking people. The horses come to a stop in a particular spot, and the music graciously ends as the last of the chariots come through.

President Snow comes out and onto the balcony, a smile on his face as he stops in front of the microphone. Here, he gives out an official welcome to the tributes, and then the traditional speech comes after. You’ve been watching this man give this speech for fifteen years now, and it never changes.

During this time, it’s customary for the camera crew to pan around the tributes to show off their outfits again. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see yourself and Finnick the focus at the moment. All you can think about is the potential sponsors, so you go ahead and lay your head on Finnick’s shoulder. 

You can hear a few people, way, way back give out a squeal or a cheer. But Finnick knows the exact game you’re playing, and goes ahead and places his head on top of yours. Not only do you have your half-naked body next to him, arms wrapped around his, you also have your head on his shoulder. And he’s repaid the favor.

You hope this pays off. You were worried about Reed and Mox and the outfit situation before. Now you’re just worried about how they’re going to react to you clearly playing up some act with a boy. You know they’re protective, you just hope that they keep their mouth shut and don’t cause too big of a commotion.

The anthem plays after the speech, and knowing that this means you’re going to be moving again, you and Finnick straighten out. The chariots take one last lap around the Circle, and then you’re heading back towards the Training Center. On the way, you rinse and repeat with the side that Finnick had originally been on.

It’s much easier this time around, you know how to avoid the same mistakes you made the first time around. Before you know it, the entire ordeal is over. You’re quickly covered by shadows again, and you and Finnick are untangling your arms to give them a good stretch.

As soon as the chariot has fully stopped, you’re surrounded by everyone. The prep teams who are talking loudly and helping you down from where you stand. The stylists who are still pretty far back, probably tired of listening to their friends. And then Mags and Anchor, who are already singing praise.

“Smart.” Anchor says, motioning between you and Finnick, “The head thing, I mean. Was that planned?”

“My half was, I didn’t expect him to follow.” you elbow Finnick and watch as his face turns a very light shade of red.

“Whatever for the sponsors, right?”

“Right.” Mags agrees.

You cooperate to the best of your abilities when it comes to getting the vines off, wincing when it pulls at your skin painfully. Finnick seems to not like it very much either. It’s all in sensitive areas, and after they’re removed, your skin is a bright color.

The prep teams don’t even say goodbye, disappearing off to wherever they have to head. You’re still covered in jewelry and makeup, and so is Finnick. As the two of you turn to your mentors, really hoping to get back to the Four floor, Anchor nods at something behind you.

You’re the first to look over, Finnick seemingly clueless. You tug on his arm a bit when you realize what’s going on. A sprinkle of fear begins in your heart, and you do your best to suppress it. It’s not the end of the world, in fact, it might be the beginning of one. And without even thinking about it, you wave them over.

One chariot over is the District One tributes, staring at you and Finnick. While you and him were distracted a second ago, they got their first opportunity to size you up, measure your body and take predictions on what you may or may not be good at. It’s a jump, one you wish you could have taken yourself. You only get to see them so many times before you go into the arena. And this is the first real look up-close.

These moments where you over or underestimate them are crucial. Once your viewpoint is set, you can’t imagine you’ll be thinking much different later on. And talking to them is a good way to get a feel on how they’re going to be for the next five days.

Three of those being training, where you get to see what they do and don’t excel at. It’ll be important for you to pay attention to the tributes that head straight for certain areas in the Training Center. It means that they’re good at it, especially the ones that go for the weapons. The fourth day is the private training score, showing how dangerous they are.

And the very last day is the interview. There, they’ll be able to show the whole sponsor pool why they’re good enough. Same thing for you. You have to pay attention to every little detail. Every single one.

Like now, how both Trink and Lennox head your way without a single moment of hesitation. Either they were waiting on an invitation or they were planning on heading this way anyway.

“Scram.” you hiss to your mentors and stylists, and it looks like they understand why, because they leave with no questions.

When they’re within speaking distance, you start, “Cute outfits, where’d you get ‘em?”

They’re both dressed in sparkly outfits. From where you were on the chariot, you thought they looked like disco balls with how the light reflected from them, into the stands. Thankfully, their stylists must have taken the tributes behind them into consideration, because you never got blinded once. 

“Oh, you know.” Trink smiles, it’s cute, attractive. You can sense a bit of danger with it, attractiveness will get you everywhere with sponsors because of how they think. But if you manage to become allies with them, their sponsors might just become yours. Think smarter, not harder, “Went shopping yesterday after the reaping.”

She poses to add effect, Lennox doesn’t look as entertained as she is. He’s stiff, stares you and Finnick down like you’ve got some ulterior motive. No, it’s just an alliance. It’s reasonable. Districts One, Two and Four regularly team up. The only problem this year is you and Finnick are young. 

Young can easily get you killed. If you’re twelve, thirteen and fourteen, you have little to no chance of winning. Your odds increase slightly at fifteen, and get bigger and bigger at sixteen, seventeen and eighteen. The older you are, the more your body has developed. And considering they’ve had years of preparation, while other tributes have never done something like that ever, they have an unfair advantage.

“I’m (Y/n).” you give her a smile.

“Trink.” she says, “This is Lennox. He’s jealous at the moment.”

Your eyes slide over to him to see that he’s staring you down now, “What you did on the chariot was…”

“Smart?” you ask, “I know, there’s no need to tell me.”

Now there’s a smile on his face. It looks like confidence is the key when it comes to him, that’s something you’re going to have to remember until later. You complimented Trink to get her to be playful, and you were confident with how you look.

“And you?” Lennox looks over to Finnick.

A smile spreads over your face as you watch Finnick offer his hand, “Finnick.”

Lennox’s impressed expression only deepens, taking Finnick’s hand and shaking it. They’re definitely older than you are. Not only because of their height, but because of the way they talk and carry themselves. Either Lennox has got a superiority complex going on, or he’s extremely old-fashioned, which you don’t think is likely.

You look between them to see that District Two is coming over uninvited. Perfect. If you all gather now, then it’ll be easier to gather later inside of the training room. You’ll all know each other, and naturally gravitate into a group. Just like how it is back home at school when it comes to group projects. You normally go straight for your friends or people you know in general to make the process a lot less painful.

“Looks like we’ve got company.” Finnick says, beating you to it.

And just like that, Lennox and Trink split, allowing Eytelle to come to a stop next to Trink, and Allio next to Lennox. With Trink and Eytelle standing next to each other, you can see just how much of a distance there is between them. Eytelle is nowhere near the same height as Laurel just yet, but if she keeps growing, she will be.

Her parents must be tall, because that’s the only reason why she would be this height. Her long legs are going to give her an advantage when it comes to running, but it’ll be hard for her to hide easily in an arena. She’ll have to find a space where she hides completely, while you would just be able to slip right on through.

“District Two?” you ask, “I’m going to have to ask your names.”

“Eytelle.” she says, she’s hunched over, arms around her exposed stomach. Eytelle’s outfit isn’t nearly as flattering as Trink’s. With District Two, they’re always trying to go for a gladiator look, like they should belong in a coliseum rather than a Tribute Parade.

“Allio.” his voice is deeper than you expected, “And you are?” he must be older, otherwise he just went through puberty early. 

“(Y/n), this is Finnick.”

“Nice show you put out there.” Eytelle says, her voice is calm, but there’s something festering beneath. 

You have a feeling that she’s jealous of the attention, just like Lennox.

“I saw an opportunity and took it, I hope you’re not expecting me to be apologetic.”

“Not at all.” Allio says, “It was smart, if anything.”

Finnick laughs, and Lennox and Trink break out a smile too. After you explain to him what’s so funny, they seem to loosen up a lot more. For a couple of minutes, it’s casual conversation on how long it took for you to get ready for the parade. Then, the conversation is wrapping up, with you bidding them goodbye until tomorrow. It gives an edge that you hope they’ll catch on to.

On your way back to the Four floor, you and Finnick agree on making them allies. It would be easiest after all. They seem reluctant to trust, but so do you. It’s only fair at this point, you’re still very new to each other. But eventually, they will grow to like you, and expect you to pull weight if you can sell an alliance.

Another step taken, another crack slipped through.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> your character suggests hanging herself 2 separate times.

“My skin is sore.” you complain, watching as Leo scowls a bit, clearly not liking how much you’ve suddenly begun to complain. Not a single word came from you during the waxing and scrubbing process at all.

“It’s not that bad.” Cleo tries to reason, and she’s clearly a mind reader too, “The wax earlier was the worst thing you’ll ever have to go through.”

“I think my skin is sensitive, that’s why.”

They seem to consider this for a moment. And without a single word from Beth, she rises from her chair and leaves the first room to go to the bathroom that’s attached. She’s gone for a couple of minutes, and you spend the time gently peeling off dried glue from your body. Wincing when it catches a couple of stray hairs that the team managed to miss somehow.

By the time she comes back, she’s got a yellow bottle in her hands, that you immediately recognize as the lotion that was used on your body earlier. At first, it had stung but the cooling sensation afterwards was worth it. Beth is a quick thinker, you like her.

When you’re sure that there’s no more glue, Leo sits you down in the chair and wipes your face completely free of makeup. When he moves out of the way so you can see yourself in the mirror again, your eyelids are clearly stained a light shade of green. And instead of complaining, you shrug.

Next is pulling off your clothes to trade them out for something more comfortable. And as you’re slipping off the tube top and later the skirt, the exhaustion seems to kick in. Your limbs feel heavy, and every time you lean or bend over, you’re sure you won’t be able to pick yourself back up.

With eyelids half-open, you apply a healthy lather of the lotion before pulling on a pair of knee-length grey sweatpants and tank top. Cleo slides a pair of slippers your way that is so clearly made out of real animal fur, but you can’t bring yourself to be mad at the fact they killed an innocent animal just to use their fur as a pair of shoes.

You wave your prep team goodbye, and don’t wait up on Laurel at all. Dragging your feet through the hallway, Finnick comes out of nowhere, joining your side. He seems to be in the same state as you are. The difference between you and him, is that you got a few hours of sleep in, and he got absolutely none. 

A rough night of basically no sleep, and then an emotionally and physically draining day only hours later had taken its toll on you. On your way to the elevator with Finnick, you find yourself dreaming of flopping onto the Capitol bed, wrapping yourself in the warm comforter and laying your head on that soft pillow. And hopefully falling asleep before your mind can wander.

“I’m going to sleep so good tonight.” Finnick yawns, which triggers you to yawn next. And as he goes to open his mouth a second time, you elbow him to keep a cycle going. He lets out a gentle laugh.

At the elevators stands Elysia, one hand holding them open. You and Finnick don’t bother to pick up the pace, she’s going to stay there whether she likes it or not. She has to take you back to the floor. Almost like an escort.

Finnick sighs, closing his eyes and leaning up against the glass wall of the elevator. He’s got on a white shirt and a pair of deep blue shorts, sandals on his feet. And even with a layer of clothing on, it’s obvious that he’s sweating, and it almost seems to be seeping through his shirt and onto the glass behind him.

Elysia purses her lips, and you can tell that she wants to tell him to stop leaning on it, because it’s ruining the presentation of the small room. But then her face smooths over, and she offers a small smile instead, turning back towards the doors. 

You spare one last look at Finnick, but find the glance lasting longer than you expected it to. It’s clear he’s on the brink of falling asleep upright, lips parted, wet hair sticking to his forehead. Maybe it’s not sweat that’s coming from his body, maybe he took a shower instead. It would make more sense as to why his hair is like that. Before you two split to your prep teams, he was as dry as you were.

The elevator makes a noise, and his eyes open again, spinning a little as he tries to get a hold of reality again. He stumbles, trying to catch his footing, and then motions for you to go first. When you go to offer for him to lean up against you, he’s shaking his head and telling you it’s fine.

“You two don’t have to come to dinner.” Elysia tells the two of you, on the couch sits Anchor and Mags, watching a recap of the tribute parade. At your initial entrance, neither of them had paid attention or even bothered to look your way. But now at Elysia’s dismissal, they’re staring, “If you wake up hungry, the room has food service. All you have to do is order anything you want and it’ll appear. But I expect you two will be at the table bright and early tomorrow morning.”

“You’ll wake us if we aren’t?” you ask, not really caring about the food thing. You can go to bed hungry, it won’t be the first time. You’re just worried about sleeping in. Tomorrow is the first day of training, and the second time you get to see your opponents up close.

“Yes.” she says.

“Goodnight.” Finnick says, heading towards the hallway, you wave at Mags and Anchor. Anchor is the only one that raises their hand in return, saying his subtle goodnight.

You follow Finnick up the steps and into the hallway. When you go to bid him goodbye, heading towards your room, his hand catches your elbow.

“Can I stay with you?” he asks before you can say anything.

You stare for a moment, the words not processing slightly. Stay with you? Like in your room? He wants to sleep in your room?

“Like a sleepover?” you ask, watching a smile creep up and onto his face.

“I guess.” he shrugs, “It’s fine if not, I just thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”

That’s not the reason, and you know it. It’s probably the same reason why he didn’t want to fall asleep last night; he’s afraid of being alone with his thoughts. In a whole room by yourself, on the brink of sleep fearing the worst in a couple of days, that’s going to bring on an onslaught of nightmares. 

You’ve had that happen to you a couple of times. Not with the Hunger Games just yet, but you’re sure that it’ll come one of these days. The longer you stay here, the more reality begins to set and seep into your head. Before you know it, you’re going to wake up in the middle of the night, alarmed, alert, and afraid.

And right now, Finnick is trying to prevent that from happening to him.

“Yeah, you can stay with me.” you tell him.

He gives a loopy smile, “I’ll meet you a minute, then.”

You split from Finnick now, watching as he goes into his room. You go into yours, making sure that the doors don’t lock behind you. You pull off the ring, gentle setting it into the bowl on the nightstand. Then, you sit on the edge of the bed, every fiber of you greedily begging for you to just flop over and fall asleep now without the blankets and pillows. Without waiting for Finnick to come in.

He doesn’t leave you waiting for long. He comes in with his comforter around his shoulders, and training behind him on the carpeted ground. A singular white pillow is beneath his arm as he stands in the doorway, unsure of where to go. You motion towards where the window is, since it’s not a bad place to sleep if you don’t mind the city lights at night.

“You can sleep in front of the window, if you want. It’s a good view.” you sigh, throwing the blankets open. Any moment now you’ll be able to sleep, and tomorrow morning you’ll hopefully be refreshed.

Finnick heads over, making a makeshift bed with the blanket and pillow already. He collapses into a sitting position, and stares out the window for a moment. Then, he yawns again and speaks, “You’ve got a better view than I do. You’ve got the lights, and might even be able to see the festival in a couple of days from here.”

“Festival?” you ask.

“Yeah, it happens after the interviews, since it’s the night before the actual games themselves.” he slips beneath his blanket after that, “It’s disgusting really, but what can we do?”

The answer is nothing. So, you say nothing and watch as his breathing automatically slows into even intervals, a clear giveaway that he’s fallen asleep. You stare for a couple of minutes longer, until he eventually turns over and his back is to you. Only then do you slip yourself beneath your blankets and do the same, facing away from him too.

The sleep that you were on the brink of only moments ago, seems to be fading. The late afternoon sunlight freely coming into your room is throwing you off. You’d never be going to sleep at this time. In fact, back home you’d probably still be in school going over math problems or the latest english assignment.

Or you might be heading to Naida’s house after school, fully prepared to get your homework done and thank her for her time. Then, you’d scoop up Alyssum and head home and wait until your brothers would get home. They’d have already spent hours on the water fishing, and they’d come back not even half as exhausted as you are.

You don’t think Reed and Mox missed the tribute parade at all. In fact, they might have skipped the afternoon work entirely because they wanted to see you and how the Capitol citizens would react to you. You wonder if they were disgusted by how much you’d changed. From a feeble little girl to a young woman in just a few hours.

They’d risk getting in trouble just for a glance of you, a quick check up. The next time that they’ll see you is when your score is announced by Caesar Flickerman. You hope you score fairly high on it, because it would be such a relief to Reed knowing that you should have no problem when it comes to getting sponsors.

Mags had briefly explained how training would work this morning. She said that the next three days is training with the other tributes, where the gamemakers would be supervising and taking notes. Everything that you show off or don’t inside of the Training Center will contribute to your score. 

The private training session is really so you can show off anything you didn’t want to show the other tributes. It’s a secret skill, something that you’d want to be a surprise when you go into the arena. Only they are allowed to know what it is, and what happens in that room will stay there forever.

Thinking about it now, you don’t think you’re going to have a skill for that. Everything you know is pretty generic. You suppose that you’ll be learning more things tomorrow, but it won’t be the same. Showing off a skill you’ve known for years versus something you learned two days ago makes a difference.

You have days to worry about that, maybe you’ll remember something along the way. Tying knots and throwing spears aren’t that impressive. Maybe if you tie a noose and hang yourself from the ceiling, it’ll catch their eye, make a statement. 

Although it’s already no secret that the tributes would rather die on their own terms, rather to the hands of another teenager. There’s been countless attempts in the past, both successful and unsuccessful. It’s the reason why there’s so many safety precautions now. To keep the tribute from dying early on and sending twenty-three in, rather than twenty-four.

To do that would mean to give up your chance to win. It would mean you’re accepting defeat without even seeing the circumstances first. Who knows? You might just end up on an island in the middle of the sea, favoring District Four. Giving your district another head start, on top of all the ones you’ve gathered already.

You’re going to win. You can feel it.

—

In the morning, Elysia kept her promise. You and Finnick hadn’t gotten up on your own, so she came in to do the job for you. It wasn’t all that bad, last night you had expected her to throw water or something onto you this morning. Really, she just knocked on the wall until one of you awoke.

It was you first. And it wasn’t even to her knocking, it was because the whoosh of the doors opening automatically. Once she made sure that you wouldn’t be going back to bed, she left.

And you still haven’t moved from the bed, even minutes later. Finnick is still asleep next to the window, blanket tucked beneath his chin. You’re going to feel awful here in a second when you have to get him up. But it’s not like you have much of a choice.

You’re sure that he’d rather you wake him up, than Elysia. So, you run a hand through your hair in a feeble attempt to tame it, and then you wander your way over to him. Standing over him is definitely creepy.

You nudge Finnick with your foot, hoping that’ll be enough. But he doesn’t even stir, so you go ahead and do it again. This time, his hand flies out from beneath the blanket and he wraps his fingers around your ankle. For a second, you think that’s it, and then he yanks and pulls you down.

He’s a lot stronger than you give him credit for. The floor disappears from beneath your feet, and you have no chance of catching yourself on the way down. Your hands smear down the window, leaving nice hand marks in your wake.

You land right on top of Finnick, who’s now giddily laughing at his joke. You roll your eyes, getting off of him and sitting back. He sits up, face red and tears gathering in his eyes. You try not to laugh, but the longer he continues, you let out a small chuckle and shove his shoulder with your foot. 

“Very funny. How long have you been awake?” 

He smiles, wiping beneath his eyes, “Since Elysia came in. I was just waiting for you to come over.”

“I was trying to be nice. I should’ve just hit you with the pillow.” You get up, stretching and heading over to the walk-in closet.

Before Elysia left, she told you that the training uniforms should already be in here. You have different options, all different variations of yellow and black. Looks like they’ve got a theme going on at the moment.

The first top is like a regular shirt, just a little modified. The collar is black and comes up to the base of your neck. The rest of the shirt is mustard yellow, and there’s a zipper on the front that leads from the bottom all the way up to the top, exactly like a jacket. It’s a cute top, you pick that one over the long-sleeved and tank top.

And the bottoms aren’t that exciting, plain black shorts or leggings that end at your calves. You pick the latter, and then scoop up the tennis shoes and the underwear too. When you come out, Finnick’s got his things gathered in his arms.

“Thanks for letting me stay in here.” He smiles.

“How was your first ever sleepover?”

“Pretty boring.” He laughs, heading out, “Hopefully the next one will be better?” He proposes, and then doesn’t wait for an answer.

If there is a next one. You go ahead and take a shower after that, paying careful attention to your eyelids to make sure that they aren’t green when you step out. After you get dressed, you pull your hair out of your face, letting a few strands stay if they don’t irritate you too much.

You debate on the ring. It would be nice to wear to make sure that it doesn’t leave your sight, ever. But on the other hand, it’s going to get in the way of learning. Maybe it’ll get caught on something, or it’ll make a lot of noise, or your finger will swell and you’ll have a hard time pulling it off later.

Then again, you don’t want it to get swiped and for someone to think that it belonged to yesterday’s costume. You were wearing a lot of water-wave related things yesterday. It wouldn’t be that far off to think it came from there.

You could very well trust it with Mags. She’ll understand. 

Once your shoes are on, you slide the ring on and decide that it won’t hurt to wear during breakfast. When you step out and into the dining room, you’re not that surprised to see that you’re the last person to come out. You utter an apology to Elysia, and take the only available seat next to Finnick.

Almost immediately, food is served to you. It’s almost the same as yesterday, nothing new. You eat it all measuredly, making sure that the rich taste won’t make you feel sick. That’s really the last thing you’d want in the Training Center, to throw up in the middle of doing something.

And as always, it looks like Finnick has got the same worries. This time, he’s not inhaling the food like it’s the last meal he’ll ever eat. You know he must be hungry, especially since the two of you skipped dinner yesterday. You know you are.

Mags doesn’t eat very much, so she’s done long before you and Finnick are. She carefully slips the napkin off of her lap and sets it into the nearest bowl, waving off the avox when they come around to give her more. Then, she turns to you and Finnick.

“Do either of you have tokens?” she asks, Anchor pauses for a moment, and then his head bobbles in approval. 

“Yes.” you say, placing the spoon back into your bowl before pulling off the ring and holding it out for her to see. She takes it from you, turning it over in her hand. 

She doesn’t give it back, and then turns to Finnick, “And you?”

His fingers dance along his arm until they land on his wrist. The same braided, brown rope is there. You vaguely remember seeing it yesterday and being surprised that they’d let him keep it. Up close, you realize that it’s not really a choice. The ends are tied together, and his hand is too big to just slip it off.

It reminds you of those bracelets that are supposed to ward off evil. Caspian’s sister owns one, and he constantly calls her superstitious because of it. He doesn’t think that it works, and every time she reaches over to it when bad things happen, he rolls his eyes. Always telling her to grow up, when she’s already out of high school.

You think it works. She graduated at the top of her class and instead of being stuck with the same old government-provided fishing job, she got hired at the sweet shop. Which of course, is placed next to the bakery, the butchers, the fabric store and finally, the ice cream parlor. All lined up and expensive.

Even though you don’t like Caspian–or maybe you do now, you don’t know–you like his sister. There had been a few times where she had caught sight of you through the window, and rushed out to give you a treat to share with your brothers and sister. You tried for a while to turn it down, but she always insisted and so you stopped struggling and instead thanked her greatly.

She, Calandra, has had good fortune ever since she started to wear the bracelet. Whether or not Caspian has realized that, you have no clue. But you have, and you think that’s why Finnick wears the bracelet. However, his luck hasn’t really been up, as of late.

“It’s just rope.” Finnick says, “I can’t take it off.”

Mags and Anchor share a look. Anchor makes a face, “All they have to do is look at it, and they’ll see that it’s not really an advantage. I’m pretty sure they can see it during the tribute parade, so we don’t have to bring him along.”

Mags nods, and then turns back to you, “Would you mind if I gave this to the gamemakers to look at for a couple of days?”

You shake your head, “I’ll get it back?”

“If it’s not dangerous.” Anchor says, “Or poses any sort of advantage.”

It’s just a silver ring. You’ll get it back.

“Yeah, you can have it.” you lean back in your seat, resuming your bowl of soup.

Mags pockets the ring, and then doesn’t waste time, going on, “Don’t show off any serious skills, save it for the private training session. You don’t want everyone to know what you’re actually good at.”

“What if the careers ask?” you lean in, “Am I just supposed to leave them hanging?”

“No.” Anchor says, and you and Finnick look over to him now, “Save at least something for the gamemakers. Don’t even share it with each other.”

You hope that won’t create issues between you and Finnick. You know Anchor is right, and he knows better than you do. But the thought of holding back even one skill to keep Finnick on edge the entire time is dangerous. You don’t want him to be anticipating something that might not even happen.

“Right.” Finnick says. You can’t tell if he’s upset or not, and you think you like it that way. You don’t need to know.

Mags excuses herself from the table, saying that she’s going to go hand off the ring, and do other things as well. It leaves just you, Elysia and Anchor at the table. Until Elysia says that you guys should meet her at the elevator no later than ten, and leaves the apartment too.

“Districts One and Two are automatically going to head towards the weapons section.” Anchor says, picking at a bagel, “And you’re going to be expected to follow.”

“Should we?” you ask.

“You already talked to them yesterday and proposed the idea of an alliance, right?”

Finnick shakes his head, “Not exactly. She said we’d see them tomorrow and that was it.”

“Did they seem interested?” Anchor asks.

You press your lips together, staring down into the empty bowl. You don’t know at all. They were definitely friendly after the tribute parade. You got Trink and Lennox to loosen up easily, and Eytelle and Allio followed stiffly. To you, it looked like they were uncomfortable with the thought of working with people younger than them.

It’s very well possible that they think you two are still naive and will find a way to fuck up tremendously, costing their lives or something. They’re worried about the wrong thing, though. You and Finnick have already proved that you’re smarter than that. You’ve analyzed them, their body types, their personalities, and you know what kind of people they are.

Maybe Allio and Eytelle didn’t seem enthusiastic, but Trink and Lennox did.

“Two of them.” you answer first, Finnick looks like he’s about to object, “District Two is still iffy. I think if we hang around them today, we’ll find a way to sell it.”

“That leaves two days to work on skills.” Finnick says.

You look at him, and then Anchor, “How does the center work? Is there a schedule?”

“You’ll go in at ten, and a few hours later will have lunch. You’ll have it all together in a room with tables, then you go back to training.”

“How about this,” you look at Finnick, “First half we spend on skills, and then at lunch we’ll sit with One and Two, and after lunch we hang out with them for the rest of the time?”

Anchor is impressed, and Finnick seems to like this idea a lot better, because he agrees to it. First half of the day will be spent learning and remembering skills, and after lunch will be getting to know the other careers better. A good bargain, you feel proud of yourself for that. 

There’s not much to talk about anymore. Both you and Finnick end up dismissing yourselves from the table about thirty minutes before ten. In your room, you fix unapproved stray hairs and brush your teeth. For the last remaining time, you sit on the bed and try not to think of home.

The time comes around where you have to leave the room. Finnick is already waiting out by the door, having a conversation with Anchor. He’s in a new change of clothes, and it looks like his hair is wet again. Before he wasn’t wearing his training outfit, now he is. While you wear yellow, he wears blue. 

When Anchor notices you, he subtly motions, letting Finnick know. With squinted eyes, you watch as they wrap up the conversation, Anchor pats Finnick on the shoulder, and then they split.

Anchor wishes you good luck. On the way out of the apartment to the elevator, you try to ask Finnick what they were talking about, but he attempts to slyly redirect you to talk about the training that’ll be happening in just a few minutes. It’s a red flag immediately, and you find yourself making note of it. 

Some part of your mind tries to cooly remind you that he doesn’t have to tell you anything, but the thought slowly fades. This is the Hunger Games, every person you befriend, every alliance you make will eventually end in distrust and murder. This is no time to be holding secrets.

You don’t push him.

Elysia is at the elevators, holding the door open. Inside, she lets you know that it’ll be a moment before you actually reach the training rooms because it’s underground. You and Finnick share a little eyebrow raise–even though you’re still pretty irritated–and wait in silence. She tells you she won’t be going inside with you and that you’ll officially be on your own, away from her, Mags, Anchor, the stylists and prep teams.

It comes as a relief. Now you won’t have so many people hovering over your shoulder while you try to figure things out.

The walk to the Training Center is short and quiet. This gives you a feeling that Finnick must know that you know something is up. Good, you hope he comes to realize you’re not stupid.

The doors to the room open automatically, revealing a gymnasium three times the size of the Four floor. And the Four floor is already bigger than your house back home. Just with the first look, you’re able to see all the stations and their accompanying trainer. There’s weapons lined up against the walls, obstacle courses in the middle. 

This is a dangerous playground.

A lot of the tributes seem to be here already, all gathered up together. On the way down with Elysia, she let you and Finnick know that the stylists are the ones picking out the outfits for everything. So, Laurel picked a muted mustard yellow color for you, Pleurisy picked a pretty baby blue for Finnick. And as for everyone else, it varies.

Before you two can join the others, you’re stopped at the doors. Just to keep a track of white tributes are from which districts, you’re required to wear a number on your back. You have a feeling that it’s for the gamemakers, who all sit up in a box on the top right. If they know who you are, they can keep track of you and why you deserve the score you’re going to get.

After you two have got District Four pinned to your back, you head on over. Instead of actually standing inside of the circle with everyone else, you stand back. Letting yourself get a good look at everyone, now. This is vital.

Trink and Lennox lean into each other, Lennox slouching to reach her height. When Trink moves away, he cracks a smile. Her eyes go over the almost-complete circle, eyes landing on you and Finnick. She smiles too, waving slightly as a greeting. Because of this, both tributes from District Three look over their shoulders.

The boy is tall, dark haired and pale. His lips are pressed together in a thin line, but the second he realizes you’re looking right back at him, they loosen into a gentle smile. He’s friendly, and the girl next to him looks like she is too. Light brown hair that’s down but out of her face. The smile reaches her eyes, and you remember how she cried on stage. She might be emotional.

You give a smile back, the girl turns back away towards the head trainer, who’s still waiting on the final tributes. However, the boy still stares, and the longer his eyes linger, the more you feel your face becoming hot. He’s older, and he’s definitely cute. When he turns away, you can feel your heart begin to beat loudly in your chest. How embarrassing.

Allio and Eytelle are standing side by side, stiff looking. Maybe that’s just how they are normally, and it was nothing against you. They do look like they take things a little more seriously than Lennox and Trink. The more you stare, the more the word ‘wary’ seems to fit their description.

There’s Finnick and you, of course. District Five seems to be missing completely, Six isn’t talking to each other at all. Seven seems to be friendly with each other, the boy has a bright smile that never seems to go away. Even when he tries, the girl will say something and he’s back to massaging his cheeks.

The girl from Eight nibbles on her nails, the boy is on the other side of the circle, away from her. The girl from Nine, and both Ten tributes are all huddled together. The boy from Nine, you have no clue. It looks like he’s missing too. Both from Eleven look nervous and Twelve is… just a pair of children. Twelve and thirteen, it looks like. They have absolutely no chance here, and they’re by far the youngest.

The doors open, making everyone look over again. In comes Six, you think, as well as the boy from Nine that you vaguely recognize. They get their numbers on the back of their shirts, and stop around the circle just like you two had.

The head trainer introduces herself now, her name is Pasithea and she’ll be overseeing everything formally. She explains the schedule in detail. At every station is an expert, trained in that skill. The experts are not allowed to move from place to place, but you are free to. You can get up and leave at any time to move on to go somewhere else.

Some of the stations focus on survival skills, like identifying berries, starting fires, and knowing which leaves are poisonous and which are safe. Others are combat, with swords, hand-to-hand, and so on. Because tributes can’t fight with each other, if you want to test your combat skills, all you have to do is ask and they’ll send someone to you that’s qualified.

And even though Pasithea already gave examples of the survival stations, she goes down a list, anyway. Good versus bad berries, leaves, and hiding places. How to start fires, snares and knots. You’re welcome to play memory games, and show off whatever you like. As for combat, the list of weapons is long, and you tune out towards the middle.

You don’t know what half the weapons look like, and you’ve never heard the names before. So, what’s the point in trying until you’re free? Finnick looks like he’s bored of it too, and he shares a look with you, eyes going off to the side as he jerks his head in a direction. You look around him, and your eyes land on the fire starting station.

Might as well. You nod, he looks happy that you’ve agreed. When Pasithea releases you all, allowing you to finally get your hands on things, everyone seems to split off somewhere. Your career friends head right towards the nearest combat and weapon stations, already showing off.

District Seven seems to do the same, they both look as old, or even older than the careers. The girl swings a top-heavy axe like it’s nothing, the boy stands back and watches. If you were to make an alliance with them, it would probably be a package deal. Just like you and Finnick.

At the fire starting station, you and Finnick take a seat around a ring of rocks with wood in the middle. The expert kindly asks if you have any clue on where to get started, and Finnick shakes his head. You offer some half-assed answer of flint and stone and sparking a flame. This seems good enough for her, and she starts by showing you that technique.

Back and forth, you and Finnick try various ways to get it done. You’re able to get the fire started way before him, but once he realizes what he was doing wrong, he outshines you. After flint and stone comes the actual devices that might be included in some backpacks in the arena if you run towards the cornucopia.

For years, you’ve watched people run to the middle, and every time you call them stupid. Who is dumb enough to run to the one place where all the careers will be waiting? All those tributes that have died in the bloodbath–which is what the massacre is called–have to have known that their chances of getting anything out of the cornucopia itself is slim to none.

If you pick off the things that are scattered outside of it, you have a lesser chance of dying. But running inside, where the careers will be protecting their precious goods is just like accepting the fact that you’re going to die. And most of the time, it’s going to be gory and nowhere near quick. They like to make a show out of it.

After you and Finnick seem to have got it down, you and him bid the expert goodbye and move on. Deciding that you’d like to work on something you two actually know a lot about and is fairly useless, you settle on the knot tying station, which is also where the snares are taught.

The expert seems thrilled at your knowledge, watching you list off which types of ropes are used for what. And then you settle down on the floor, tying and retying all the knots you can remember that Reed taught you. You know the names to most still, but there’s some that slip your mind. Despite the name being gone, you still know how to move your hands.

Finnick leans over your shoulder, watching you tie a knot that’ll be nearly impossible to escape once tightened, “Who taught you all of these?”

“My oldest brother, Reed.” you hold it up for the expert to see. She’s got a smile on her face, nodding, “I can’t tell you how many hours I’ve sat on a boat while he and Mox fished, watching me do these.”

He asks you to teach him a few that you feel are important, and you almost feel bad for the expert. They’re no longer the teacher, because you lean over and have Finnick do a series of them until he’s sure that he’s got it down. 

You want to try your hand with the weapons, but Finnick is still pulling you along to the survival places. You follow anyway, thinking to yourself that you’ll be able to try them after lunch. You and him made a deal, and so when it’s your turn, you’ll be able to do what you want. 

By the time lunch rolls around, you’re starving and dehydrated. Inside of the lunch area, they have a buffet-style meal. All the tributes are welcome to help themselves and go back for more whenever they please. You and Finnick help yourselves to foods that you know will be filling but not too rich. After that, plenty of water bottles.

Before you and Finnick can even get the chance to start a career table, you’re being waved down by the boy from Three. The girl has got her head raised, eyes on the two of you. She says something to him, and once he scowls, she looks down and away.

“Where do you want to sit?” you ask Finnick.

“I thought we were going for Districts One and Two?”

“I’ll let you have today if you let me have tomorrow.” you say, “Anywhere you want.”

Unsurprisingly, Finnick heads right towards the table with District Three. It’s a sacrifice, and you’re hoping that it’s not a bad one. You ignore the stares you get from the alliance you’re really after, and settle down at the table.

“Hi.” you greet, “I’m (Y/n).”

“Blaire.” the boy says, sitting up taller, “This is Verda.”

“Finnick.”

The conversation starts off slow, until Verda eventually enters and carries most of it by herself. She asks questions, expands on anything that you and Finnick ask. You were right about them being friendly. Not once is there a tense moment between any of you, and at the end of lunch, you four decide to stick together.

Blaire mainly sticks by your side. He’s funny, and his laugh is a little loud but you’re not embarrassed by it. In fact, the more he laughs, the more you find yourself reconsidering the alliance with the other careers. 

You and Finnick are only fourteen and fifteen. The others are between sixteen and eighteen, they could easily overpower you with all those years of training. One bad move with them, and there’s a chance they’ll kill you on the spot. There’s safety in numbers, of course. But why bother to keep around a couple of teens that are dragging them down?

With Blaire and Verda, they’re older, but you don’t find them that threatening. If they came up to you back home, you’d make friends out of the both of them, no questions ask. Which might be a downfall, and could really get you killed. You can’t be friendly with everyone in here, but Blaire and Verda seem to be different.

Soon, you’re all moving onto weapons–finally!–per Blaire’s request. While learning how to handle a knife properly, Finnick sits on the only open spot next to you, and leans over.

“Still want to be allies with the careers?” 

You wonder if he’s noticed how close you’ve grown to Blaire in the last couple of hours, or how you refuse to even look at the careers. However, he should know that you gave him today. Just because you act one way today, doesn’t mean you won’t act a different way tomorrow.

You’ll change with the seasons if you have to. If it means that you’ll stay alive longer, you’ll play games with people. Keep Finnick close, let him think that you’ll agree with him, and then you’ll play with the careers. Slowly but surely dragging him back to the idea. Because now, he’s made it no secret that he doesn’t want to be allies with them.

You look at Finnick, and he’s got the same face he had on when you asked him what he was talking about with Anchor. It clicks now. He doesn’t want to be friends or allies with the careers, and he was expressing that to Anchor. And now he’s trying to nudge you in the right direction without giving anything away.

It’s too late. You force a smile, looking back down to the blade. It’ll only be a matter of time before you’re using a similar weapon against someone. You wonder who will be first, your traitorous friend Finnick on the request of the careers, or the careers on the request of Finnick.

You will go back home. And you’ll do whatever it takes.

So, for now you let out a laugh, nose crinkling and catching the eyes of Blaire, not so much Verda. Finnick’s looking over your face, a smile slowly creeping on. That’s right, “A little.”

If you do switch sides, you wonder if it’ll be for Finnick, someone who you’ve known for years but won’t open up to you. Or the boy across from you, with sea blue eyes that make tears well in your own, because they remind you of home. Or maybe the girl that seems to have a heart of gold, and a smile that can lighten the mood.

You all move together one last time before the day is over, to the berry station where the girl from Eleven is hunched over, easily identifying the edible ones. She passes with a perfect score, and flashes the expert a smile. When she realizes that you guys have joined her, the smile fades and she’s quiet as she moves onto identifying leaves and bark.

And Finnick being Finnick, manages to get her to open up. Her name is Thyme, her district mate’s name is Horace–and he’s halfway across the room–and she’s got no one at the moment. It isn’t until they’re all deep into a conversation about their lives when you realize what’s going on. What Finnick’s doing.

The more you seem to learn about these people, the less you picture yourself killing them. You know you wouldn’t be able to kill Finnick even on a good day, not with how his mom knows you and so does the rest of his family. Blaire’s got a brother, Verda has two sisters and Thyme is an only child with no one but her old parents.

All of this settles uneasily in you. There’s always an ulterior motive with people.

Before you can change your mind, you abruptly push yourself up from where you sit, causing Finnick to falter on a few words, slowly dragging them out. He must think you’re stretching or something, because he goes back to what he was saying. But you turn away from all of them, smoothly escaping the rocky station and crossing the gymnasium.

Being friends with everyone is going to get you killed. He’s still young, he doesn’t understand that. He hasn’t had these thoughts drilled into his head since he turned twelve, there’s no way for him to know that. Even after you tried to push him in the right direction, he went right back to what he was thinking before.

But it’s weird, because he agreed to being allies with the careers on the train, so what changed? Was it that conversation with them after the parade yesterday? Because they didn’t even say anything that sent a red flag off in your mind. You would have noted it like you always do, how vicious they are.

They haven’t even shown that side of them yet. Them going to the weapons could be an intimidation factor, but they haven’t shown viciousness just yet.

Trink looks around Lennox at your approach, and even goes as far as to move him out of the way, clearing a space right between him and Eytelle. In front of them is Allio, who’s making the best out of fighting an assistant. He’s incredibly good, and there’s only one time that the assistant touches him.

“Where’s Finnick?” Lennox asks.

“Making his friends.” you offer a smile, “You guys want to show me how it’s done?”

Eytelle lets out a laugh, “Show us what you can do first.”

Your eyes go over the different stations and how they’re organized. Swords are placed with knives. Spears are placed with tridents. Maces are placed with other top-heavy items like axes. You move straight over to the spears, and listen as they loosely follow.

The second that your fingers wrap around the expensive metal of a spear, you remember Anchor telling you not to show off any important skills. Save it for the private session in two days. You look over your shoulder, straight to the gamemakers to see that a couple have got their eyes on you.

You’ve spent the entire day going around and honing skills, and spent lunch with people you didn’t think you’d find yourself next to. Now, you’ve abandoned them and your district mate, heading straight to the careers. There’s a split second where you think that they shouldn’t be surprised, because you were around these guys yesterday, and then you remember that they hadn’t seen that.

The gamemakers are surprised because they thought this year would be an anomaly. The last third of the careers would be off and away, playing with districts they’ve never really dared to go before. Not with the comfort of knowing that the careers will take them in no matter what. Districts One, Two and Four tend to be the powerhouses, why bother to break a streak?

Looking a little further, it seems Finnick and the rest of them are watching you too. 

You grip the metal tighter, turning back to the target circle right in front of you. It would be easy to do this. District Four is almost expected to know how to do this already. You just need to find a second skill, a much more special one that will wow the gamemakers. For now, you can throw this one away.

You draw your arm back, eyes on the one farest from you. Your face twists when you tense, throwing it with all the right power, and watching as the tip of the spear guides it nicely through the air, and straight to the red dot in the middle of the target. 

“It’s a little off center.” you laugh, because it is. It’s too far to the right, but it’s on the red nonetheless. You turn towards the others, they’ve got smiles on their faces, sharing looks that let you know you did good. Still not vicious, they’re planning something, “Think you can do better?”

“You win on this one.” Trink says, “As for everything else…”

The rest of the training day is spent next to the weapons. You don’t see Finnick again until you’re leaving, and even then neither of you talk. It’s obvious to Mags, Anchor and Elysia that something has happened because the happy air between the two of you is gone. You’re not asked why, but Finnick is when you leave the table to call it a night.

The second day isn’t anywhere near a rinse and repeat of yesterday. At the beginning, Blaire decides that he wants to stay next to you, and it’s kinda hard to shake him when you want to go to the careers. However, going around the gym is a lot less painful with him, because there isn’t a history. After lunch, you’re right back to the careers.

Instead of making fun of you, they teach you the same dangerous skills that they know. You breathe in all in, taking in as much information as you can. You only have tomorrow morning left, after that is the session, the interview, and then the games. Just the thought of them alone gets your heart beating in your chest.

A little bit into the knife-throwing lesson that the expert is giving to you, you learn that it’s easy. When you finally get a shot to throw, just to test the waters, you throw the best you can at the nearest target. When it lands in the middle, you claim beginners luck but know that will be your skill for the gamemakers. After that, you repeatedly fail with throwing and tell the others that you’ll stick to throwing spears.

Just like that, you’ve got what you need to know. 

You all mess around on the obstacle course for a while. Climbing ropes and rock walls. You find yourself scaling the rock wall easily. The expert suggests using just the cracks, which are there to provide an extra challenge to those who are good regularly. You slip a few times at the beginning, not knowing how heavy or slippery your fingers are.

But soon, you’re grasping it, and you reach the top of the wall three times in the time it takes Allio to scale the wall once just using the rocks. Impressed, he gives you a high-five and you get praise from the others as well. You’re a lot more prepared than you gave yourself credit for.

Finnick comes over to the station next to yours with Thyme only once. The two of them take a lesson on sword fighting, which Thyme is pretty bad at, but Finnick isn’t too shabby. You take note of this, and pretend like you never watched them in the first place.

Your friends leave early, claiming to be sore from all the climbing. They want to be in their best shape when it comes to tomorrow. You bid them goodbye, and even consider going back early too. You decide against it last minute, thinking that it’ll be a perfect time to work on hand to hand. What they don’t know won’t hurt them.

Blaire comes up to you, leaning against the pillar as he watches you flip the assistant over your head and onto their back. You struggled with their weight for a moment, rusty on doing it. But you managed to get it over with.

“Where’d you learn that one?” he asks.

“My brothers.” you help the assistant up, “Back before my parents died, we wrestled all the time.” it’s right back to fighting. When you’re pouring sweat and feel the tiredness growing behind your eyes, you stop and get water, still talking to Blaire, “They’re like four and five years older than me, too.”

Blaire laughs, “I did the same with my brother all the time. Until the day I accidentally broke his wrist.”

“Older or younger?”

“He’s older.” Blaire’s got a proud smile on his face, “He couldn’t even be mad at me.”

When you get back to the apartment, you see that Laurel is standing around with Pleurisy and Mags. Finnick had left long before you did, and with the looks that everyone gives you, you can see that they’re upset. Not asking any questions, you tell them you’re skipping dinner and don’t leave your room for the rest of the night.

In the middle of the night, you wake from a nightmare in sweat-soaked bed sheets, clutching your throat as you struggle to breathe. There’s tears gathering in your eyes, and you force yourself to get up from bed and take the hottest shower you’ve ever taken. When you leave the shower, your skin is painfully hot and sensitive to the touch.

You curl up in front of the window, knees pulled to your chest as you try not to cry too loudly. It’s late, and the last thing you’d want is to wake someone up and have to explain why you’re so upset. And despite your best attempts, the door opens anyway, and Finnick comes in without a word. He sits next to you on the floor until sunrise, by then you’ve calmed down and your cheeks feel dry. 

When the streets come back alive, he leaves again. You don’t thank him at the breakfast table, you don’t even look at him.

Back at the Training Center, you spend the last couple of hours going around to all the survival stations that you hadn’t bothered to consider beforehand. The careers follow you and even learn a few things too. Once out of the couple of hours of walking around, you find ‘your’ group and ‘Finnick’s’ group at the same station at the same time.

During lunch you hardly eat anything, the nerves sprouting in your stomach and blossoming in your throat. Trink reassures you that you’ll do great, and you spend the rest of the time gently sipping on your water. Then, the private training starts. Lennox is pulled out first, and you all wish him good luck.

After Lennox is Trink, and neither of them return after they’re gone. You watch Allio and then Eytelle go. You’re sitting alone at the table for a while, watching the avoxes clean the table, but leave your water. You think you’re going to spend the time alone, wallowing in nerves when the others come around, Thyme following too.

“I’m going to get a perfect twelve.” Blaire says, Verda lets out a laugh.

“Right.”

“You’d have to do something amazing for that. What have you got under your sleeve?” Finnick asks.

Blaire looks to you, eyebrows raised and motions to the others, “They didn’t see my wicked hand-to-hand skills.”

“Neither did I.” you say, which gets the whole table laughing and a lot of stares because of it.

Soon, Blaire is being called. You all wish him good luck, and you find that it’s the same process as before, watching the people around you get picked off. Verda leaves the table graciously, winking at the three of you before she leaves into the next room. And then Finnick is getting called.

For the first time in a day and a half, you look at him, grabbing his arm before he goes. Finnick turns, green eyes on yours, face set serious. It’s like your own little personal bubble, filled with so much tension that it’s almost funny.

“Score high, for everyone back home.”

Finnick nods, “You too.”

You let him go, and watch as he leaves the room. Thyme doesn’t say anything to you, and you’re glad for it. She’s their friend, not yours. And you don’t even want to bother trying at this point. You’re tired, you have today and then tomorrow, and then you’re going to be fighting everyday to stay alive.

“Boy trouble?” you hear a voice call from across the room. When you look over, the District Seven girl is sitting on top of the table, feet on the chair. It’s so incredibly rude to do that, but you’ve only got so much time left to be kids.

You think her name is Cass, you’ve heard the boy say it a few times in passing. Cass and Mac, tributes of District Seven.

“Not really.” you lean your head up and against your hand, “It looks like that, doesn’t it?”

“Kinda.” A boy says, he’s from Six. He’s stuck next to Mac since the beginning, and you think you saw them having a few private moments. Amos, you think. You can never be sure at this point.

“I wish I had boy troubles.” Elodia, Five, says, she smiles at the ceiling, “All the boys at home used to drool over me.”

“Right.” the boy from her district says, “You were a loser.”

She shoots him a glare, “Watch it.”

“Watch it.” he mocks, and she pushes herself up from where she sits. He’s pretty far away, a whole two tables away. They’ve been apart for the most part since the first day. 

Pasithea doesn’t want a fight, so she advises you all to keep quiet for the rest of the time. It’s not really bothersome to you. You finish your water, use the bathroom and still have a minute or two to spare before you’re called into your session. You pop every possible bone in your body so you aren’t stiff, and head right into it.

With shoulders squared, you walk into the room. You’re informed that you have fifteen minutes to show any skill of your choosing, and then you’re allowed to start. Without a moment of hesitation, you wander your way over to the throwing knives. And as you start, you can hear a few laughs. 

You hope they underestimate you. It’ll just make this so much better.

Looking over the knives they have laid out, you take your time balancing them between your fingers and feeling the engraved handles. You try to find one that’s not so distracting, that’ll fit just right into your palm when you throw it. Again and again, you pick them up and narrow them down.

When you finally find the set you’re looking for, you turn towards the dummy that’s hanging from the ceiling. A morbid sight, really. And you repress laughter, because that was your original thought on a special skill. It’s almost a sign.

You take a deep breath, stretch your shoulder. You know that no matter what, they have to watch you. Knowing that they’re staring at you isn’t going to mess up, it’s the fact that you know you have to perform well. It’s exactly what Finnick said a few days ago.

Finally, you draw your arm back without notice and throw the knife as hard as you can, exactly what you had done with the spear yesterday. It flips once, and then twice. You’re sure that’s going to fuck it up, until they seem to slow down, bigger intervals before it flips again.

The knife hits the heart of the dummy with a dull thud. You throw a second knife, watching as that one lands in the stomach, and then another in the knee. You use up all but one knife, saving the last one for the spear throw target. The dummy is incredibly impressive, since you had only missed twice out of the nine that you threw. One was too far above the shoulder, and one was right between the legs.

The spear is going to be much farther, a larger distance to cover. If you thought throwing before was hard, this one nearly looks impossible. You stretch your shoulder again, take a deep breath, and then throw. It crosses the distance easily in an arc, landing right on the red middle.

Once the gamemakers are sure you’re done, they dismiss you. And you think you saw a few impressed expressions, which eases your anxious thoughts, and allows you to move onto the next worry.

Tomorrow, the interview.


	5. Chapter 5

The second that you walk into the apartment, you’re surprised to see that the place is entirely clear, except for the avoxes that stand off to the side. There’s not even a note left behind. You find yourself grateful that you aren’t being bombarded with questions right as you walk in.

Finnick is, of course, nowhere to be seen. Assuming that he’s in his room like he normally is after long days, you head straight to your room, dreaming of a cold shower and a moment alone to your thoughts. After what happened this morning, you think you’re in need of a good moment alone to your thoughts.

The second you step in, you see that Finnick is sitting in front of your window. You know Finnick said that you have a good view and all, but that doesn’t mean that he has to come in uninvited, especially when you’re not here. You don’t say anything, and he barely acknowledges your presence.

He watches you disappear into the closet, and you don’t peek your head out once to get a look at him. Instead, you gather your clothes for after the shower. When you step out of the closet, Finnick is now turned to you, legs straight in front of him. 

“Are you still going with the careers?” he asks.

The entire wording of the sentence makes you bite the inside of your cheek, staring right at him. He can’t be serious, right? But the longer that he stares, without saying a single word and not laughing once, makes you boil.

“That was the original plan, wasn’t it?” you ask sourly, throwing your clothes onto the freshly-made bed. Your right hand forms into a fist, and you place it on your hip, “That was our original plan.”

“It was, you’re right. But I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“I know, and I knew days ago. I’m not stupid, Finnick. In fact, I’m a whole lot smarter than you think.” when his eyes drift to the window, clearly not wanting a lecture, “Your alliance is going to get you killed.” you snap, watching his eyes find you again, “But you don’t know that, because you’re too caught up in making best friends with people that are going to die.”

“You don’t know that.” he says back.

“You’re accepting defeat.” you gather your clothes in your arms again. You don’t need him around you, not with that mindset. If he accepts the fact that he’s okay with dying and letting his friends win, then that’s his problem, “You’re a sinking ship.”

“No, you are.” he says, and you turn your back to him, “What would your brothers say?”

“They’d say to do whatever it takes to come back alive. If that means teaming up with the people that’ll carry me for most of the games, then so-fucking-be it.” when you look at him again, he’s halfway to the door.

“No, they wouldn’t.”

“You don’t know a damn thing about me, Finnick!” you shout, slamming your hand into the wall on your way out of the bathroom, “You’ve talked to me for years and it’s like you’ve learned nothing. They told me I can win. And I can, and the process will be a whole lot fucking easier without you in the picture.”

His eyebrows push in, mouth opening, but you finish, “So yeah, I’m with the careers, and I fit in just fine. Get the hell out of my room and stay on your side of the hallway.”

You watch to make sure he leaves, and then for good measure, you lock the doors shut. Your shower is cold, and it feels even colder after what had just happened. You sit on the floor, forehead on your knees as you close your eyes. Your body begins to cool down, no longer feeling so warm. 

You’d really wanted to come in here to think about this morning, worried about the nightmare resurfacing only days before the games. It’s recurring, and typically happens when you’re about to enter a part of your life that you’ll never be able to go back and change.

The first time that really happened was when your mom died giving birth to Alyssum. You went from having her around in the house after school, to her being gone completely. She was replaced by a baby that you loathed for months, until you realized that she wouldn’t be so bad once she got older.

There was a tension between you and your brothers even before your dad died. When he did, it broke it entirely. All of you were broken, and you buried a casket without a body. It was a fishing accident, a handful of fishermen had died. No bodies recovered, the boat was never found. One day you had a parent, and the next you didn’t.

The recurring nightmare is normally drowning out at sea. The boat malfunctions and sinks, and you swim for as long as possible, sometimes trying to get back to land. But it’s always too far away and you never seem to find it. In fact, you’re turned around most of the time. So, you could be swimming away or parallel to the land and you’d never know.

You’re a fantastic swimmer, it’s the worry of getting tired and giving up, slowly sinking into the deep blue depths. You run out of air and will to swim, limbs becoming heavy. By the time you take in your first breath of water, you always seem to realize that you don’t want to die. But it’s impossible to swim back up to the top. You drown every single time.

It’s exhausting. There’s some point where you always recognize that it’s a nightmare but can’t wake yourself from it. You have to go through with drowning, and wake up with puddles of sweat on your sheets. Normally after them back home, you won’t bother with a shower or bath. Instead, you’ll go out and do some mind-numbing task that you’d never do willingly. Like fold the laundry or do the dishes.

You scrub your skin free of all the grime of today, and when you’re dressed you go ahead and lay onto the bed, back turned towards the window because of the sunlight. It takes a long moment before fatigue finally drags you under, and when it does you’re so incredibly grateful. 

Anchor is the one to come and wake you up this time. He tells you that dinner is ready, and that Laurel and Pleurisy are here so don’t be shocked. You thank him, and when he leaves the room, you go straight to the bathroom to fix your messy hair. After trying to brush through it, you give up halfway through and pull it up.

At the table sits everyone but Mags and Finnick. You pick the seat furthest from the two open spots, and slowly but surely, the others settle in, leaving two open spaces. You pick at the lamb stew and rice, not too hungry because you just woke up. Mostly, you listen to the conversation between Elysia, Laurel and Pleurisy, until they all turn they all turn their attention to you.

“How was the session?” Anchor asks, he’s playing around with red wine, you think, “We couldn’t ask earlier.”

Your eyes move to the hallway, you see no shadows, “I don’t want to give it away if he’s listening.”

“He’s not, I promise.” Elysia says.

You take a deep breath, stirring the soup, “Well, I had their full attention the entire time. They kinda laughed at me when I stopped in front of the knife throwing because of how bad I was yesterday.”

Elysia gasps your name, and Anchor seems disappointed too. This is exactly the same reaction that the gamemakers had earlier. Until they saw you throwing the knives, the room went entirely quiet and all you could hear was your heart pounding in your ears and your quick breaths. It was entirely satisfying to leave them speechless like that.

“But out of the nine knives I threw at the dummy, I only missed two, above the shoulder and between the legs.” you twirl the spoon handle between your fingers, “I got a few vital places, that’s all that matters. I was mostly focused on the legs towards the end because that’ll hinder running away.”

Laurel’s got a smile on her face, “Is that it?”

“No, I used the tenth knife on the spear throw and I still nailed the middle. It had to be at least fifty feet or more.”

“That was smart.” Anchor says, “To keep that as your skill.”

“Really, it was my first time throwing. I’m surprised I didn’t miss more.”

Before they can ask anymore questions, a door is opening and Mags appears in the hallway first with a quiet Finnick trailing behind. Automatically, the mood seems to sour. When they try to drill Finnick next, he shuts them down immediately, making it all the more worse. You think it’s clear to them now that you and him aren’t getting along. It was a matter of time.

After dinner, you’re brought to the living room where you sit next to the arm on the right side. Anchor sits to your left, yawning and eventually leaning on his elbows on his knees. Mags and Finnick sit together on the other side, talking about something. And Elysia, Laurel and Pleurisy share their own couch, talking excitedly.

Then, Caesar Flickerman comes across the screen with a wide smile, saying that it’s time to get started. Naturally, it starts with District One, boys first. They’ll pull up a picture of the tribute, and have the numbers flash beneath. You watch as Lennox and Trink both get ten’s.

With Allio, he gets a nine, and Eytelle manages an eight. It’s typical for the careers to get anywhere from between eight to ten. So, Eytelle isn’t that far off but she’s teetering on the edge. You’d say it’s a way to make people underestimate her, so that they think she’s useless and therefore won’t be as worried about her, but the careers don’t work like that.

They want people to be worried, they want the sponsors to have their eyes on them. She just did something wrong inside of the session, and you can imagine that she’s not exactly happy right now. The next time you see her, she’ll probably talk about it.

Blaire scores an eight, Verda a six. The only reason why Blaire’s number is so high is probably because of the hand to hand he did on the second day. That was the only time you really saw him do anything physical, and he likely did that again inside of the private session. Verda isn’t much of a surprise, she’s small and pretty weak.

Then up comes Finnick, scoring an eight. There’s cheers for him, shaking his shoulder and congratulating him. The only reason why it’s impressive with him, is because of his age. It’s expected of the both of you, though. You’re District Four, not District Eight or whatever.

Your face appears on the screen, and you hold your breath. Heart pounding in your chest, you beg for anything above an eight. Something that’ll impress the sponsors, your career friends and everyone back home. Show them that you’ve learned something while you were here. Prove to your brother’s that you’ve got a fighting chance.

Below your picture flashes a ten.

You let out all the air you were holding in. The whole room seems to explode with excitement, feeling your shoulders shake, praise falling upon you. You guess it was for a number of things, the spear, the climbing, the hand to hand and the knives. All of those things combined did something to them.

You’re allowed to leave the living room. You give Laurel a hug and she assures you that tomorrow you’ll be beautiful and looking like you deserve a ten. Before you can actually leave, your arm is grabbed by Anchor, holding you back until Finnick has left entirely, and then turns you to him and Mags.

“You and him aren’t allies anymore, what happened?” Anchor asks.

It’s just the three of you here, and hopefully Finnick isn’t eavesdropping.

“I thought we had a plan with the careers, and I guess I was wrong. He changed his mind and never told me. I saw the people he was trying to be allies with, saw what he was trying to do, and decided that I’d rather go on my own. And I told him that earlier, after the session.”

Anchor nods, letting you go and looking over to Mags, “This is going to sway the citizens.”

“They still think they’re allies.” Mags agrees.

“Let it be a surprise, then.” you say, pulling on your fingers, “They all like a good plot twist, right?”

They don’t have a chance to say anything else, because you’re heading back to your room. You change into pajamas, steal a bowl of ice cream from the food station in the corner, and curl up by the window. You’re not all that tired because of the nap you took earlier. So, you’ll sit here and fantasize about being back home instead.

Your brothers and sister were probably gathered in a house with Naida’s family. Calandra probably brought sweets from the sweet shop in preparation of a high score. Even if you did score low, they’d eat it anyway. But you can imagine that they’re all thrilled right now, with some guilt mixed in too.

You’re only fifteen. So young to be scoring so high. And you’re about to be losing that precious innocence that you’ve been preserving for so long. Actually, you thought you’d get longer. That either you wouldn’t get chosen at all, or you would have been older and more knowledgeable about things.

They all must be conflicted. Celebrating the dangerousness of a fifteen year old child. Caspian is probably cracking jokes about it, much to Naida’s chagrin but Reed’s finding it funny anyway. It’s lightening the mood, and they all nibble on the sugar and try to ease the anxiousness in their bellies.

If they’re nervous, you can’t imagine how you’re feeling. You have tomorrow, the interview night, and then the morning of the games. Two and a half days before you’re inside of the arena.

After you finish the first bowl of ice cream, you go ahead and get a second one. There’s no point in worrying about a sugar rush. The higher you are, the better the crash will be and hopefully it’ll happen soon. You don’t want to stay up too late, but going to bed now will just mean you’ll be laying there for a while.

You hope that the score will ease their worries for one night and they’ll sleep soundly. One full night of sleep with no nightmares. Something that you’d like too.

When you’re done, you set the bowls together in a neat pile and then brush your teeth. You curl up on the bed, facing towards the window this time. You stare out of it, blinking occasionally until your eyes grow tired. Only then do you close them, and find yourself falling asleep quickly.

You wake by yourself in the morning. A look at the clock tells you that it’s nowhere near early, it’s fairly late. It’ll be reaching the afternoon in an hour or two. You should probably get up and take a shower.

With a groan, you stretch your muscles and stiffly make your way to the closet. You pick out an outfit that will be comfortable, and then move your way back towards the bathroom. The shower is quick and warm. Not wanting to deal with your hair in your face all day, you pull it out of your face once it’s semi-dry.

At the table, there’s one empty spot, far away from Finnick. You sit down, watch as a sandwich is given to you, and listen to what Mags and Anchor have to say, now that you’ve appeared at the table.

“You two will be working with Elysia today.” Mags says, “(Y/n) will start.”

You look over to Elysia to see she’s got a polite smile on her face, but when the corners of her mouth twitch, you feel hesitant all of a sudden, “For how long?”

“A couple of hours.” Elysia says, “Then I’ll work with Finnick.”

After eating, you’re brought right back into your room. Elysia disappears into your closet, and when she emerges, she’s got a floor-length dress and a pair of heels in hand. As you change, you watch as she moves some chairs out, and when you’re done, she immediately gets you to work.

You both quickly found out that you’re not half bad with the heels. You’re a little wobbly on some things, but the second after she corrects you and shows you a better way, you’re not wobbling anymore. She tells you that you shouldn’t ever pull the bottom of the dress up farther than your ankles if you need to. After walking, is literally everything else. 

She makes you sit up straight, has you smile on almost anything you say. If you were to make hand gestures, they have to be gentle and lady-like. And then she has you doing a series of sentences that are so drilled into your head that you’re sure it’ll be hard not to use them during the actual interview.

“How did I do?” you ask the end of the session.

“Better than the girl tribute last year.” she rubs your back on the way out of the room, “If you remember all of that tomorrow, you’ll win over sponsors just with your smile.”

You’re traded for Finnick, leaving you with your mentors. You have a small snack before sitting down in the living room with the two of them. You cross your legs, feeling the ache in your feet after walking in the shoes so much earlier. By tomorrow, the feeling will be gone. But for now it hurts.

They stare at you for a long moment, until Anchor snaps his fingers, “Sweet.”

“Sweet?” you ask.

Mags has a smile on her face, nodding in agreement, “Yes, that’ll work.”

“Sweet.” Anchor confirms.

You feel stupid, “Like, kind and nice?”

“Exactly that.” Anchor says, “You’ve already had that air since the tribute parade, it’ll be easy to play on.”

“What about my score?”

Mags has the answer this time around, taking a seat in a long armchair, “Mysterious.”

You hum, it can work. You can make it work.

With the interviews, tributes tend to play up a certain act. Cunning, mysterious, stern, dangerous, sweet, sexy, stupid, decieving, the possibilites are endless. It’s not a surprise that this is what they’re doing, finding an adjective that will fit you, and then demanding you to play that role.

Sweet is easy. As long as you don’t over-sell it, no one will suspect a thing. And Caesar can’t ask you why you got the score you earned, he can allude to it, though. That’s where the mysteriousness can come in. You can change the subject and make sure you leave everyone on the edge of their seat.

“Easy peasy.” you tell them, they look pleased with your compliance. It makes you wonder if Finnick was a nuisance, “So, what now?”

“Mags will ask you questions, and I’ll pretend to be the audience.”

The questions that Mags ends up asking, reminds you of all the years before. All those other interviews of hundreds of now-dead tributes. She’s definitely reusing some, and making some up by herself. You make sure to cross your legs, do the gentle hand motions and smile when you get the opportunity.

You give up information about back home, you know that’ll capture some of the audience’s heart. It always seems to scoop them up, you have family back home and they’re waiting for you. They’ll be at the train station with open arms and tears in their eyes. When you say this, Anchor’s got a wide smile on his face and encourages you to keep going.

You don’t push your luck. Mags then asks the golden question about how you, a fifteen year old, could have scored so highly. And you smoothly and slyly answer the question without really answering it, “Yes, it was a surprise to me too. I’m sure my family back home is excited.”

After the first round of questions is an intermission. “Very good,” they tell you, “now try complimenting the Capitol.” and so you do your best to try and make the Capitol admirable. But it’s hard, and it’s definitely a weakness. The entire time your mind keeps going back to that magazine on the train, and you struggle to not use the titles of the sections directly.

They see that this is hard for you, and instead suggest to keep it all vague. Mags starts again, and you’re doing much better this time around. By the time you’re done, you’ve got a headache, and your thighs hurt from all the chaffing of switching back and forth on your crossed legs.

At dinner, you eat a lot, enjoy the chocolate lava cake that’s served, and even get seconds while requesting ice cream. An idea pops in your head then. Since you’ve grown so comfortable, what would the harm be in trying to align yourself with the Capitol? When you ask your mentors this, they tell you that it’s a good approach, but will be hard with what you’re supposed to be doing.

Nonetheless, you note this and call it a night. You fall asleep easily, feeling exhausted after the day’s work.

When you wake, it’s because Cleo is ringing some annoying bell in her hand. Once she realizes that your eyes are open, she gives you an innocent smile and orders you out of bed. Today is the interview, and you need to get to it.

They shower you, pressing buttons that you’ve never considered before. Once your hair is like silk and your body is sore again, they pull you out. They lather you with the lotion, dry your hair and get to work. Laurel is nowhere to be seen, and Cleo tells you that she won’t be showing up until last minute, when you’re supposed to be wearing the dress.

You watch as they work together. Beth is sitting on the floor, holding onto your hand, applying baby blue nail polish to them. After one finger, she’ll spray something onto the nail, order you not to move it much, and then move onto the next finger. By the time she’s done with the first five and has moved onto the next, your nails are dry. She goes from your hands, to your toes.

Cleo blows bubbles of pink gum. She’ll pop it without flinching, ignoring the loud sounds that it makes. When she had first started the body spray paint, you were confused on what she was doing. Now you realize that she’s spraying on shimmery purple-blue scales here and there. A sort of mermaid effect, you guess.

Leo sits back at first, watching it all come together. Every now and then he’ll point out a spot that Cleo had missed, and she’ll go back and fix it. Soon, your nails are done and dried, no more scales are needed and they’re all heading to work on the most important part. Beth straightens your hair, and then curls the ends of it. When she sprays the hairspray it smells vaguely of vanilla and cinnamon, a smell you remember from when you first came onto the train. She pins half your hair back with a silver, wave-shaped comb. She lets a few hair strands occupy your face, but not enough to overwhelm you.

You don’t know what Leo does. For most of it, he makes you close your eyes. What he does comes in layers, until he’s eventually working at your eyes. All you know is that it has something to do with blue with the way Cleo is swooning over the color. Leo mutters something about glueing silver sparkles to the corner of your eyes to symbolize tears.

They put on fake eyelashes, and that’s the first time you’re allowed to open your eyes in thirty minutes. Before they actually let you get a look in the mirror, they cover your body in a soft glitter. Every time you move, you catch light and sparkle. One look into the mirror, and you’re instantly denying that it’s you.

They’ve accentuated a lot of aspects to your face. A sharper jawline, a slimmer nose and high cheeks. The blush makes you look childlike, but the blue makeup around your eyes with small pieces of glitter and big eyelashes completely ruins the idea. When you move your face from side to side, you can see a blue shimmer. They tell you its highlight. You’re not allowed anymore time in the mirror when Laurel arrives.

You’re not allowed to face anything reflective, so you end up in the corner of the room, facing the wall as you slip the dress on. There’s a clear difference in weight, considering you’ve been walking around in underwear for the past couple of hours. Cleo puts the shoes on for you, and when they’re done, they get to gawk at you before you get to see yourself a second time.

“Oh Laurel, she’s gorgeous.” Beth’s voice is soft, and she leans into Cleo.

“She’s going to completely sell it tonight.” Leo says, “There’s no way she won’t.”

“You’ll have them lined up around the block, (Y/n).” Cleo assures you.

“Give her the last of the accessories.” is all Laurel says.

More wave-themed jewelry. A silver necklace, a pair of earrings that look like water droplets, bracelets that are simply round or continuing the theme. And Laurel pulls out your mother’s engagement ring, slipping it onto your right ring finger.

“It’s been approved.”

In the mirror, you think you look like a princess from one of those books you read as a child. The dress is unreal, the whole experience feels unreal. 

The dress is off the shoulder, a beautiful baby blue, around the same color as your nails. It relies mostly on your upper arms to stay in place, and no matter how you move, it never slips. There will be no readjusting tonight. Your collarbones are clearly out for show, but there is no cleavage. That’ll be a win for your brothers, but a loss for the sponsors. 

Around the top of the dress are gems shaped like water droplets. They’re irregular in both shape and where they’re placed, making it look unpredictable. It makes you think of the days in Four where you’ll watch water droplets race down the window, always unpredictable on where and how fast they’ll go.

It’s long-sleeved but the material is mesh. It’s extremely breezy, and you know that you won’t be feeling hot on stage. It’s poofy, nowhere near skin-tight. The fabric on the top half of the dress creates wrinkles that end at the middle of the dress. More gems appear at the waist, before the bottom of it flares out. There’s a leg slit on your right leg, showing off the fake scales that don’t seem to smudge no matter how often it rubs against the material.

The inside of the dress is made up of silk, while the outside is mesh to give it volume. All together, the dress reaches just above the floor, so there won’t be any holding onto it when you move around. The heels that they had you step into are while, around the same height that Elysia had you walk around in. There’s thin, criss-crossing straps around your ankles, and they’re open toed too. 

Cleo makes Leo apply highlights to your collarbones, and then all four of them circle you like a pack of vultures to try and find anything out of place. They don’t find anything, Laurel is satisfied, and you’re allowed to leave the room now. You resist the urge to play with your curled hair, and instead go for your ring.

Your team is the last to arrive at the elevator, because everyone else is standing there already. Elysia gasps and immediately launches into compliments that you accept humbly. Deciding that it’s a nice time to practice what you had learned yesterday. Even Mags and Anchor are dressed up for the occasion.

You all squeeze into the elevator, with you and Finnick promptly up front. Finnick wears a snowy white suit, with an undershirt that’s the same color as your dress. You guess that Mags and Anchor have taken the plot twist idea into consideration.

At the base floor, you’re greeted with some of the tributes already lined up against the wall, ready to get on stage. The way it works, is that you’ll all be sitting behind center stage, but still in sight of all the citizens. When it’s your turn, or your name is called, you’ll get up and join Caesar in the center. When you’re done, you go right back to where you sit.

You’re going to be on stage for a long time. You’re just glad you won’t be standing the entire time.

You line up right behind Blaire, still playing with your ring. Him and Verda turn slightly at your approach. Verda is wearing a deep green color, and Blaire is in an all-black suit. They utter out a few quiet compliments to you and Finnick, the two of you returning the gesture.

Once everyone has arrived, you’re walking towards the stage in a single-file line. Even though you were sure you wouldn’t have to bring the dress up when you walk, you were thinking about solid ground. Not actual steps. You bring the bottom of the dress up just high enough to get up, and then quickly drop it back down again.

The seats are comfortable, and the gamemakers, and Capitol citizens point and whisper among themselves, excited about how you all look. You tuck the dress beneath yourself when you sit down on the soft, comfortable bubble chair. 

Staring out to the people is enough to make your heart jump in your chest. The entire place is packed, it’s like the entire population is here. For the ones who couldn’t make it, there’s cameras ready to catch every angle. People in the Capitol and districts have their tv’s on. Betters are eager to see their competitors, families anticipating the moment their member gets on stage.

Reed is probably huddled up right next to Mox and Caspian at Naida’s house. Just like the day with the training scores, they’re all together. Waiting for the moment they finally get to see you again, this time bedazzled and grown up. You look nothing like you did during the tribute parade. Then, you looked young. Now you look old.

Then, Caesar Flickerman is coming onto the stage, a white smile and a friendly wave to the crowd. This year, he’s got green all over his body. A light green suit, emerald green hair. The makeup on his face is some sort of medium between the two colors.

He warms up the audience first, and right after he’s calling up Trink. Her blonde hair is in waves over her shoulders, she wears a maroon dress that’s complemented with black and sparkles in the light. For an entire minute, she twirls a strand of her hair around her finger, until the fun questions are done and Caesar’s taking a dip for a more serious air. Now, you can see the viciousness.

“I am going to win Caesar. There’s no question about it.” and then she smiles, and lets out a laugh, and the tension is automatically diminished. She made it seem fun, but it’s like a threat. She’ll kill anyone in her way.

Lennox, Eytelle and Allio are all the same way too. You start to get nervous when Verda is called up, because it’s Blaire and then it’s you. She blushes her way through her interview, but leaves a lasting impression on the audience even after she sits. Blaire makes a performance, even you’re on the edge of your seat. He’s so easygoing that it makes him look like the interviewer and Caesar the tribute.

Blaire takes a seat, and you take a deep breath. Eyes are on you now. You sit up a little higher, letting the smile naturally come to your face. 

“Now onto District Four, with (Y/n) Gallows!” Caesar introduces, you carefully uncross your legs and stand from where you sit. His arm is outstretched in your direction. Every move you make towards center stage makes you feel nervous.

Three minutes starts the moment you stop in front of Caesar, shaking his hand. Your hands are surprisingly dry, even if they were wet, you wouldn’t be able to dry them off anywhere. 

You take a look out to the audience. So many people to impress–no. Actually no, not a lot of people to impress. You’ve already done that with your abnormally high score. Now you just have to sell it to everyone. Sweet and mysterious. Two things that can mix if you do it just right.

Your eyes glaze over the camera. Your brothers are watching. 

You can do this.

When you look at Caesar, he’s already giving you a daring look, “(Y/n), you are absolutely stunning tonight.”

“Me?” you ask, eyes widening, “Caesar, I am nothing compared to you.”

“I have to disagree. Don’t you, folks?” loud cheering follows.

You’re a little surprised that he isn’t taking the compliment. Normally with others, he takes it gratefully and ends up spinning it back to you. He’ll share the spotlight somehow. There’s a difference here. Something is different.

“I love that outfit. The running water effect is absolutely gorgeous.”

“Yes, I think so too. My stylist is very smart with her themes. She was even kind enough to incorporate my token.”

“Where?” Caesar asks, the audience seems to rile up at the thought. You hold your hand out for him to see, and he takes your hand in his delicately, turning to see the ring. Then, he shows the cameras and the audience, which projects onto a bigger screen for those who are too far away to see, “Does it hold any sort of significance?”

“Of course.”

He laughs, “Besides the fact that it represents District Four.”

“It was my mother’s engagement ring.” you begin to explain, “She wore it all the time before she died. My brother’s gave it to me as a surprise when they said goodbye. I think they were anticipating the day I’d get reaped, which is why they were holding onto it.”

Caesar looks sullen, as does the audience, “Do you think they’re watching back home?”

“I would hope so.” you laugh, he does too.

“Do you have anything you’d like to say to them?”

This is perfect. A perfect lead up to steal the hearts of everyone, and show them that you can be more than just sweet and slightly mysterious. You can be mean too, just like the other careers.

You find the nearest camera, smiling lightly at first, batting your eyelashes. You lift your chin, staring right into the lens. They better realize that this is personal, “I will come home to you. I will win for you. I miss you. I love you. And I will see you soon.”

Caesar doesn’t have a chance to say anything else, the buzzer is going off. The audience is loud, cheering and screaming. They jump to their feet, clapping and some even demanding for a little more time. Caesar pulls you in for a side-hug.

“Ladies and gentlemen, (Y/n) Gallows from District Four. Best of luck to you, (Y/n).”

“Thank you.” you smile, waving one last time to the crowd and turning right around to head back to your seat.

You’ve got the eyes of a lot of tributes. All either captivated or suddenly intimidated. Maybe they’re suddenly realizing what they’re up against. Everyone wants to get home, but you just told your family outright that you will win, after scoring a ten. You know something that the rest of them don’t.

Hopefully that’ll keep them on the edge of their seat.

Next up is Finnick, and you spend most of the time fidgeting with the ring, unfortunately not being able to tune him out. You try to get your thoughts to stir, imagining what your brother’s look like back home. But your mind is blank, and you’re forced to watch your former ally dazzle the audience.

It’s only a minute in and they’re already swooning over him. When Caesar asks if he should expect any surprises inside of the arena, you think Finnick alludes to the fact that you and him are no longer allies by saying; “Not everything is what it seems.” and then moves on before Caesar can ask.

Caesar doesn’t even skip over the fact that he’s handsome, “How many girls do you have falling over you at home?”

“More than you’d believe.” Finnick says, “Would you like me to name them?”

You realize then that his motive is casanova. There’s no other way to describe it.

Him and Caesar shake hands at the end of his interview, and Finnick sits down next to you with a smirk. Under his breath he mutters, “That’s how it’s done.” and you bite the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to embarrass him right now by leaving him a nice, red handmark on his cheek.

At the end of the interviews, you stand for the anthem, chin directed upward because it’s required. At the end of it, you’re all filing off the stage, starting with the first district and others following behind it. By the time you reach the lobby, it’s crowded.

Before you can even make your way over to an elevator, Trink is slithering up next to you, tucking some hair behind her ear, “Here’s our formal invitation to have you be in our alliance.”

“I accept.” you smile, “I’ll see you tomorrow at the cornucopia?”

Allio lets out a laugh, “Are we going to race?”

“I’ll easily beat all four of you, don’t even dare.” Eytelle, and suddenly a small argument breaks out between you all. Lennox tells her that just because she’s tall, doesn’t mean she runs faster. 

She tries to back up her claim, but it’s too late and she’s rolling her eyes. You all have to split anyway, so you bid them goodbye and good luck, to which they do the same. The lobby has mostly cleared then, so you get onto an elevator with a couple of tributes you don’t know the names of, and get off at the first stop.

Inside of the apartment, you’re welcomed with the sight of everyone already at the table. Your mentors, the stylists, the prep teams, your fellow tribute and Elysia.

You skip up the steps, a smile on your face. You gracefully take a seat at the table, and it’s hard to make the smile go away. Not with how you were confirmed in an alliance with the deadliest tributes there is. You are golden. All your ducks have been lined up since the beginning, and now all you have to do is execute it.

When Anchor finally cracks and asks why you’re so happy, you tell them, “I have an alliance.” and let their thoughts take it from there. Dinner is loud, and animated. You listen as the prep team and the stylists talk about what they did and didn’t like on the other tributes. 

You decide it’s a good time as any to bring up the fact that Caesar didn’t accept the compliment, and Elysia agrees that it was a little odd. Then, they’re moving on to how well you sold the part, and how you didn’t even need to worry about the training scores. Cleo says, “Just because he didn’t mention it, doesn’t mean that people aren’t thinking about it.” which eases worries you didn’t even know you had.

After dinner, you’re allowed to watch the interviews over again. You have to admit that everyone sells their part very well. But the second you’re bringing up your dead mom and brother’s back home, you can hear Beth hold onto her breath and Leo is eating every moment up. You did good.

You part with your mother’s engagement ring for the final time, Laurel assures you that you’ll get it back when she sees you tomorrow. Her, Pleurisy and the prep teams all leave after that. The only people left are Mags, Anchor, Elysia, you and Finnick.

Elysia won’t be seeing you in the morning, neither will your mentors. She hugs you and Finnick tightly, and you want to apologize for the glitter on her now, but she doesn’t give you a chance to. She disappears off somewhere.

“Find water.” Anchor says, “Remember the three rule.”

The three rule, yes. Something one of the experts at a survival station had taught you the first day of training. Back when you and Finnick were still sticking next to each other. You can go three weeks without food, three days without water, three hours without shelter and three minutes without air.

You already know that water will be at the top of the priority list. You hope that it won’t be a struggle to find any. A while ago, the gamemakers seemed to have learned their lesson about not providing water for the tributes. They’ll all slowly die off like flies from dehydration. It doesn’t make much for a show.

“Right.” you agree, yawning.

They don’t offer much else besides luck. You carefully hang up the blue dress in the closet, and then you scrub your body in the shower. You watch as the glitter runs down the drain, as the body spray nearly stains your skin.

Your hair goes from stiff to silky smooth again. You try to take care of your hair the best you can when you step out, but you’re so tired that you give up halfway through and collapse onto the bed. With your back to the window, you can hear the distant celebration of the citizens.

You’re done with living easy. Tomorrow you fight for your life.

And your win.

–

In the early morning, it’s only Laurel that wakes you. She has you brush your hair and teeth, but tells you that there will be no breakfast in the apartment. You’re to be transported to the hovercraft immediately, and she’ll meet you at the arena. She hands off a yellow shirt and black pants that are similar to the outfit you wore on the first day of training.

It’s only a temporary outfit. What you’ll be wearing inside of the arena will be given to you in the catacombs below the arena. Either way, the outfit is comfortable and you have no complaints. She brings you to the roof of the Tribute Center, giving you a slight feeling of vertigo and wobbly legs.

A ladder falls from a hovercraft above. You think you’re expected to climb the entire way up, but the moment you’ve got up the first rung, you’re shocked in place. No matter how hard you try to move, you can’t. It’s a good thing. The ladder is pulled up, and no matter how hard it’s jerked, you don’t fall off.

Inside of the hovercraft, you’re fully prepared to be released, but it’s not the case. A man in a white lab coat with a syringe in his hand gives you a polite smile, “This is your tracker. It’ll only hurt for a second.”

You grit your teeth, still very frozen as he inserts the needle deep into your forearm. You can feel the metal tracking device being pushed in. If you weren’t kept in place, this would have made your toes curl and teeth break. When it’s in, you’re released and helped to your feet.

The ladder is dropped once more, and this time Laurel is helped up. Once she’s on her feet, she directs you to a backroom where breakfast is laid out. You go ahead and load up on as much as possible. This is the last real meal that they’re going to provide you with. After this, you don’t know when your next meal will be. 

Once you’re sure you’re full, you go ahead and drink a lot of water, too. Laurel lets you know that the ride is going to be long. For a while, you just watch as the city flies beneath the hovercraft, and then it eventually turns to a forest. You cross your fingers under the table, hoping that they’ve got an arena in favor of District Four.

Really, it could be anything. A frozen wasteland, a dry desert, a tropical island. Forest, city ruins, an old village. Every year, it’s a new place. This arena will only be used once, and after that it’ll be a playground for the Capitol citizens. To take vacations, go on tours, reenact fights.

Their deaths are always turned into some sort of joke. They don’t honor the dead, and you hope that one day that comes and bites them in the ass. It’s disrespectful. Back home, if you even did half the shit they do in the Capitol, you’d be yelled at until Reed’s face turned blue, and then be grounded for however long he feels like it.

Eventually, the windows black out, indicating that you’re almost there. You drink more water, and try to breathe evenly. The games start at ten, and you’d take a good bet right now that it’s an hour away. An hour before you’re inside of the arena. Now, the nerves begin to sprout.

The hovercraft lands, Laurel directs you back towards the ladder. She’s lowered into the catacombs first. You take this time to thank whoever is around you, just trying to be polite. When it’s your turn, you get frozen and you watch as you’re brought through a tube, down to the cement catacombs. From there, Laurel leads you to where your Launch Room will be.

The second you step inside, you begin to feel sick. You take deep breaths, reassuring Laurel that you’re fine and you just need to get a hold of your stomach. You pace, and press your hand against your forehead. She comes around with a cold water after that, and you mostly press it to your forehead, afraid that drinking it will trigger something in your throat.

When you feel better, Laurel makes you take a shower and offers last minute food. You take a small roll that’s the shape of a fish and tastes like salt. It reminds you of the time your mom bought you pretzels from the bakery one afternoon as a treat. You didn’t really like the salt, and had to brush most of it out. But you ate it anyway, and later you discovered just how much you liked it.

You brush your teeth, Laurel pulls your hair out of your face into a ponytail that you requested. You can’t have your hair in your face. You’ve seen all the years before where some tributes during the bloodbath will get their hair in their face while running. If you’re focused on getting your hair out of your face, then you’re not paying attention to your surroundings.

Finally, your outfit comes through in a box. Everything inside is brand new, and not even Laurel knows what’s inside. She didn’t get to choose this outfit, she tells you that you’ll be wearing the exact same thing as the other tributes. There’s complete fairness between all of you.

First is a sports bra and high-waisted underwear. She hands over a pair of black stirrup pants. It takes you a moment to get used to the feeling of the pants being directly attached to your feet. You’re worried about them being pulled down when you’re running, but out comes a thin, black belt to keep the pants from moving too much.

She gives you a thin, faded, blue-grey shirt, “Must be hot.” is all she says. Next is a jacket, which is also thin, but it’s white and has a hoodie attached. You pull on a pair of skin-tight socks. You do a series of motions, being sure that they won’t slide down. They don’t, but you pull them all the way up anyway.

The shoes are black boots, which you tie the laces tight. Once you’re sure that it’s not cutting off circulation, you make sure it all fits. You zip up the jacket halfway, not wanting it to get in the way of running. You have to go to the cornucopia, whether you like it or not. It’ll just be a whole lot easier if you get there first.

“Feels comfortable?” Laurel asks, you nod. Finally, she pulls out your mother’s ring and slips it onto your finger. 

She offers food again, and you ask for water. The two of you sit on the couch together in complete silence. You fidget with the ring, rub your hands against the jeans to get the sweat off of your hands. You’ll be fine, all you have to do is breathe.

This must be how all the tributes before you felt. How everyone after you will feel, too. Absolute terror of the unknown. The second you’re raised and the gong sounds, it’s fair game. Anything can happen. It’s like what you told Reed; the arena is unpredictable. One second you could be fine, the next you could be covered in injuries and fighting for your life.

“I want to go home.” you suddenly breathe out, tears gathering in your eyes, “I just want to go home.”

“And you will.” Laurel says, she’s extending an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into her side and rubbing your arm. This brings a whole new wave of sadness. It’s the exact move your dad did after announcing your mom was dead, “You’re a fighter, (Y/n). You’ve beaten the odds so far, what’s a little more?”

It’s not little, though. You want to tell her that, but all you do is nod. It’s not a little. You have weeks in front of you. Events around every single corner if the arena is boring for longer than a die.

Then, a female voice is saying it’s time to prepare for launch. You take a deep breath, clearing your eyes of the tears. You and Laurel head over to the metal plate. Before you step inside, she’s readjusting your clothes, fixing your hair. It’s such a motherly thing to do. To fuss over things she won’t be able to control in a moment.

“I know you’re not with Finnick.” She says, “So be careful with the careers. You don’t know them as well as you think you do. They can act on whims, and bad thoughts will lead to bad moves.”

You nod, “I know.”

“Good.” she hugs you a final time, you can feel the butterflies start to swarm your stomach and begin to suffocate for you, “I can’t bet on you, (Y/n). But the prep team and I will be cheering you on, okay?”

You step onto the metal plate, “Thank you, for everything.”

The glass cylinder comes down from the top, slowly beginning to encase you. It’s like shutting the lid on the coffin. You wonder if your dead parents are watching you, right alongside your brothers, sister, and family friends. You wonder if they have the same feeling of impending doom dawning on them.

You hold back the tears, wave goodbye to Laurel, and then you straighten up, chin high. You have to look bold for Reed. No matter how awful you’re feeling, you have to pretend right now. You can’t screw up the chance you got, because it’s all you have.

Soon, you’re encased in pure darkness.


	6. Chapter 6

“Ladies and gentlemen, let the Sixty-fifth Hunger Games begin!” The words ring through the air, lingering in your head long past their existence.

There’s a sixty second grace period, in which you’re allowed to check your surroundings and see what you’re up against. The land, who you’re next to, and what you want to do after the gong sounds. Run away, or run towards the cornucopia? You have to decide quickly. The more daring tributes will head straight towards the cornucopia, and it could end in two ways. Success, or death.

Whoever designed the outfits were right to make the jacket and the shirt thin. You’ve only been above ground for ten seconds and you can already feel the sweat running down your back. It’s weird that it’s so hot already, especially since it’s only ten in the morning. Back home, it would be cooler and much more pleasant outside.

The cornucopia is made out of gold, stretching twenty feet into the air. The mouth is wide, and it thins out towards the back. The tail stretches higher than the mouth, curling in the air like the tail of a scorpion. Inside of the building is everything a tribute could ever wish for. Things that could carry you for days, maybe even weeks.

It’ll all make survival a whole lot easier. Spread out in front of the cornucopia are more goodies. Weapons, food, plastic, firestarters, backpacks, tents, everything you could ever need. The further it is away, the less important it becomes. In front of your feet lies a rope that looks to be six feet long. Not worth it.

To your left is Cass, her dark hair is pulled into a ponytail too. Her eyes are on yours, and the two of you share a nod. Like you’re challenging her to a race to see who will get there first. Her or you? You may be small, but you’ve always been quick. You think she’d have a better chance if she ran away.

Past her is the boy from Six, Amos. Next to Amos is Verda, and beside Verda is Eytelle. Eytelle and you share a knowing look. That as soon as the gong sounds, it’s towards the cornucopia or you’re a coward and forfeit the alliance. You’ve fought hard these past couple of days to get here, and lost a friend along the way. To give up now would be foolish. You’ll see her there.

You can’t see anyone important past Eytelle. To your right is the girl from Ten. She’s weak, small and feeble. You saw how awful she was inside of the Training Center, and she scored an average five. You wonder if it was all a hoax to make people think she was weak. However, you distinctly remember her failing to pick up the swords because of how heavy they were.

Swinging them made her fall. She’s not much of a threat besides the fact that she’s also looking to go to the cornucopia. You’ll have to keep your eyes on her when you get there. To die by her hands would be an embarrassment. 

You see Blaire next to her. He has a kind smile on his face, eyebrows a little raised as he cocks his head towards the woods. Are you going with him? You shake your head no, you’re staying with the careers. You’ve made that decision already, accepting their offer. He’s disappointed, you look past him to see Lennox is also staring. He gives you a hard nod, and you give yourself the last twenty seconds to become accustomed to your surroundings.

This year, the cornucopia sits on sand, something that will be so hard to run on if you’re not experienced. It’s going to spray up everywhere when you run, and it’s going to slow you down. You know you’re quick, but this will slow you down.

There seems to be trees all around you. Behind the cornucopia on the other side, there’s a dense forest. Some are palm, reaching higher into the sky than others. There’s bushes, batches of leaves attached to the ground that you think are wild and could possibly be poison ivy. You can’t be sure how big the arena is, you can only see so far and it’s always a toss up.

Far off to the right is a cliff that looks fairly daunting to climb. Beyond that, you can’t see anything. Behind you is forest too, but you think it’s peculiar that there’s sand all around. You crouch down on the metal plate, being careful not to fall off. You remember the year where a girl had fallen off the plate and it blew her into the sky.

You can see through the trees, now. The trees aren’t as crowded behind you, they’re spread apart. You think you can see water washing up and onto the sand. Yes, there it is, a vast blue body of water. You don’t think you’re in the middle of the ocean, maybe a lake instead. Out there is salt water, the smell is unmistakable. Which only means that somewhere on this island will be a freshwater pond with fairly safe drinking water.

If the arena is an island, it has to be big. The arena’s are hardly ever small, typically they’re gigantic and it takes hours to reach one side of it. There will be plenty of hiding spots here, which means a hard place to explore and find other tributes, unless they’re stupid and pick the obvious spots.

You stand again, realizing that you can’t see Allio or Trink at all. Which just means that they’re too far or they have to be on the other side of the cornucopia, somewhere with Finnick. It’s not your problem, especially not Finnick. They’ll find their way to you.

Your stomach lurches the second before the gone sounds. The race has begun.

You jump off of the metal plate, not liking the way your feet sink into the sand. You take off running, though. It’ll be easier to make the cornucopia yours if you’re one of the first there.

You’re careful to dodge any of the goodies that are laying around in the sand. You don’t want to accidentally get your foot caught in something, and trip and go flying. You dig your boots into the sand toes-first, and use the little divots as leverage to push yourself forward. One foot in front of the other, you know that there’s a spray of sand behind you.

You live fairly close to the coast in District Four. Their beaches aren’t the best, but they’re covered in sand and a pain in the ass to run in. Your brothers always had a way of doing it though, and you’re not sure how. But the more you run, the more you seem to realize you’ve got a pattern down, and focus on that to get you to the cornucopia.

You spare a glance on either side to see that the others are having trouble with the sand, just like you thought. You’re way ahead of the others, the only person that seems to be a runner-up is Lennox. Blaire has made a beeline towards the trees on the far side of the cornucopia. If Finnick were running to the cornucopia too, the both of you would be neck in neck.

Ten more feet and you reach the cornucopia first, out of breath, chest heaving. You reach for the nearest weapon, a sword displayed on the wall. It’s just barely on the inside of the mouth. All the other weapons are too far back into the cornucopia, all displayed just as nicely as this sword. Going back there would mean to trap yourself, though. You don’t bother.

The sword is odd in your hands, heavy. You don’t like it. You can’t throw a sword like you can throw a spear or knife. You turn around, expecting to see you have a few more seconds before the rest of the impact hits, but you’re met face to face with the girl from Ten. In her hands is a sword, which she carries easily. The bitch was faking it.

A loud sting of fear pierces your heart. It’s your first fight, quite possibly your first kill. Despite the fact that you’re a literal threat in front of her, she still seems unsure on what she wants to do. Hesitance at any point during this could cost you your life. You don’t let her decide what she wants to do, and instead you swing as hard and as fast as you can.

She barely blocks you. Realizing that she can’t run, she has no choice but to fight, and she puts up a fight. Every swing you make for an artery or a stab for anything, she deflects you and counters it. You stupidly think of all the times you watched the boys back home pretend to sword fight with sticks on the playground.

Some would use one, others would have two. You remember watching boys and girls throw rocks and tiny sticks, pretending them to be bombs and throwing knives. You never really participated in these faux fights, but there was one time when you did. You hated every moment of it, but you managed to barely make it out.

But that’s all pretend, and this is real life.

Around you, you can hear the panicked shouts and blood curdling screams of others dying. The squelching of blood makes your stomach hurl and you bite back the vomit that is very much rising in your throat. The more you swing the sword, the more tired you grow to be. The two of you are far from the cornucopia, now.

This girl, who has gotten a five on her training score is putting up a fight you’d never had expected from her. You struggle for a moment, trying to figure out a chink in her armor. To see if she favors a leg, or an arm or completely leaves parts of her open. She doesn’t. 

To go from running to fighting has you out of breath and tired.

Without thinking about it, and expecting her to catch it, you fake right but swing left. She misses it completely, and you find your sword lodged in the side of her neck. She coughs, blood spraying onto your white coat. She reaches for the blade, fingers aching to get it out. 

Her eyes are wide, and it’s clear that she’s panicked. She slowly falls to her knees, face twisting. You reach for the hilt again, pulling on it hard, too hard. You fall back, watching the sword come looks and blood spray out of her neck and into the air, landing in the beige-colored sand. 

She watches you, choking. You barely get to your feet, feeling bad for this girl that you’ve just murdered. She’ll never get to go home to her family, she’ll never get to cry and hug them again. But then again, this is her own fault. This girl thought that she’d come out of the bloodbath alive.

You grit your teeth, looking away and towards the rest of the battle as you slam the sword through the side of her skull. There is no canon, and there won’t be one until much later. The gamemakers wait to set them off until the bloodbath is over. It’s hard to keep track of the alive and the dead and it would be a mistake to miss a canon or accidentally put one out when no one had died.

You see Lennox, he’s preying over the boy from Ten, eyes wild and mouth bared to a grin. There’s already blood on his hands, you and him are even at the moment. But he’s going to break the score by killing Ten. You know it won’t be merciful. The moment that Lennox launches himself at Ten, you know that he’s out to make it entertaining.

Trink and Allio have joined you. Both fighting their own mini battles with tributes that you know are going to lose. You can see a few bodies already, but can’t tell who they are. You drag your feet on your way back to the cornucopia, vigilant and wary of anyone who might make a run at you.

You don’t see anyone. You’re quick with leaning your sword against a box, using your foot to keep it upright. You yank off the jacket and tie it around your waist instead. You’ve begun to feel the effects of the heat, and you’d rather not collapse in a useless heap in the already hot sand. On the same box sits a knife that you pick up and tuck into your belt as a safety precaution.

You watch as Ten falls at Lennox’s knees, a sinister smile across his face. A chill goes down your spine as you watch Lennox prepare to kill him execution-style. He raises his sword up, and when he’s gathered enough strength, you flinch at the sight of Ten’s head coming clear off. The head lands face-down in the sand, the body becoming a water fountain of hot, thick blood, before it too, falls in the sand. 

You swallow thickly, and Lennox moves on to his next target. It’s the boy that Trink is having a hard time fighting. From Five, you think. He’s putting up a good fight, and it’s making Trink look bad. You grab your sword, dragging it in the sand behind you as you gather with Lennox.

The boy seems to realize how much danger he is in, now. His eyes darting from Trink to Lennox. When he sees you between them, you think you see hope in his eyes. He must think that you’re there to save him, but you’re not. You’re just here to make his death a whole lot quicker, and that seems to dawn on him.

He’s backing up, away from you guys. Lennox and Trink attack him from the sides, already occupying most of his attention. With you added, he’s working overtime, and he’s fearful. His swings become less calculated and more last-minute and full of fear. All you can think about is how this would’ve been you.

Five deflects Lennox, and then you, and then back to Lennox. It opens up a wide window for Trink, she places her hand on Five’s shoulder. Before he can turn and kill her, she slams the sword through his side, and you watch it come out the other end. You lower your sword, and watch as she slams it in a few mores times.

You turn to survey, hoping that there isn’t much left to do. But there’s a tall tribute, double and a half your height, a scythe in his hands. He’s taller than Eytelle, taller than Laurel. A scream rises in your throat, you reach out to grab Lennox to get his attention, but come across nothing but air.

His dark eyes turn to you. You know who he is now, Horace. Thyme briefly talked about him to Blaire, Verda and Finnick. You didn’t listen to her much, you didn’t care for what she had to say. The only real part that you caught from her was the fact that he’s a butcher’s son, and she’s seen him carry hundred-pound deer like they’re the lightest thing in the world.

She said that her and her friends used to watch him carry much heavier things after school. She said she never saw something he couldn’t carry. 

He scored a ten in training. And you’ve got his attention.

You raise your sword, which seems so useless against his scythe. His is long, and all he’d have to do is extend his arm and he could kill you. One swing of the scythe and your head could come clean off, just like the boy from Ten. One bad move and you’re suddenly a dead body on your way home.

You keep backing up, not wanting him to come close. You don’t even know if you’re the real target, because earlier he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at Trink, but now the two of them are nowhere to be seen. You shuffle your feet back, burying your feet in the sand first.

You need to get around him, behind him somehow. Away from his line of sight, have him focus on someone else again. Not you. 

Before you can move to the right, wanting to make a half circle around him, your feet get caught on something behind you. You think it’s sand, but the moment you’ve fallen, you realize that it’s Five’s dead leg. You go to get up, but Horace has got his scythe too close. Scooting to the side would do nothing, you continue to back up, the sand is resistant.

This is how you die. A child that had played up a show for the Capitol. A girl who had said she would make it home, and made promises that she would along the way. All it would take is one swing to break all those promises.

You release the sword, no longer wanting it to drag you down. Despite this, you’ve still got the knife occasionally digging into your thigh, but never hard enough to break the skin. 

The knife.

You reach for it, pulling it out and holding it in your hand. He doesn’t seem to notice or care. You stop backing up. You can pretend. You’ve been pretending. The sweet girl, you beg; “Please, don’t.” but he doesn’t listen and continues to advance on you. You keep your eyes on the scythe, waiting for the chance and then he raises, clearly preparing to kill you.

You wait a second, and then lunge at his calf the moment he swings. You stab the knife into his calf, yanking it down. The spray of blood is hot against your face. You can hear him yell out, dropping the scythe and instead moving to grab you. You jump again, out of the way and towards the sword that lies only a few feet away.

It’s a race to weapons. You barely scramble to your feet, the sword is warm now because of the sun on the metal, and the blood on your hands makes it slippery between your fingers. You grip it tightly, and then turn to Horace, who still has his back to you, fingers reaching for his scythe.

You raise the sword above your head, feeling the ache in your shoulders at the heaviness of the sword. Just before Horace goes to fight back, you bring the sword down. Like a king to accolade a knight, except the sword lodges in the back of his head instead of a gentle tap against his shoulder.

Another canon. A second person’s life on your hands. You watch as Horace falls forward, and since your hand is still very gripped onto the sword, you’re thrown onto his body. On your knees, you’re face to face with the back of his split-open head. You grit your teeth, the smell of blood is metallic and fills your nose. Tears spring in your eyes, stomach lurching again.

You can’t hold back the gag, or the cough that comes after. In two seconds, you’ve lost your breakfast and the water you drank before you came inside. You’re shakily holding onto the sword, trying to keep yourself upright. There’s vomit in your nose, and tears running down your cheeks.

You struggle to breathe, not wanting a second round. You turn your head away and hum loudly, pulling the sword free of Horace’s head and stumbling back again. You fall onto your hands and knees, next to your knife. You wipe the blood onto your jeans, and then tuck it into your belt. After, you’re struggling to your feet and making your way back towards the others with your sword in hand.

You rub the tears, snot and vomit away. Watching as Trink smears blood across her cheek by accident. Her eyes find you, face twisting. She’s confused, you can tell. She looks around you to see Horace, and suddenly her face is breaking into a grin, “You–wow!”

There’s nothing to say. There’s no more fighting. You didn’t lose a single person in your pack. Everyone who’s dead are outsiders. You regroup inside of the cornucopia with the others.

“What’d she do?” Allio asks, looking over.

“She got that big guy from Eleven.” She claps her hand against your shoulder, “I didn’t even see it!”

There’s a look of jealousy in Allio’s eyes.

“I’m lucky to be alive.” you muse, taking a seat on a box. You take the neck of your shirt and use it to wipe the sweat from your forehead. To them it’s a joke, to you it’s real. You might have been his equal when it came to training score, but that was not going to be a fair fight.

At least your odds have increased, and maybe have gotten a few sponsors in the process. After all, you just killed a man that was bigger, stronger and older than you. He might have had brute strength, but you had outsmarted him. 

You watch and listen to what they have to say about the bloodbath. They say it was fairly easy, and they didn’t have to fight as much as they thought they would. All you can think about is the fact that you threw up a good amount of food that could have lasted you until this evening. Now, it’s just before noon.

At least they didn’t see you lose your breakfast right after killing Horace. You push yourself up from where you were sitting, and head out to check who and how many are dead. There will be canons later, and even a recap of who has died in the sky later tonight, but you can’t wait. You need something to occupy your mind.

Both from District Ten. The boys from Five, Six and Eleven. Both from Nine, Verda, and Cass. You stop above Verda’s body, staring down at the way she’s laid out. She’s not even five feet from her metal plate, and there’s a knife lodged in her forehead. She’s starfished, eyes open. You crouch down, whispering an apology while your back is turned to your friends.

You close her eyes, and then pull the knife out of her skull. It’s a throwing knife, which means that one lucky tribute had made it out with knives. Because no one has them spread out or around them as far as you can see. You note this, and shuffle pass Cass, whose neck is clearly broken.

“Nine dead.” you tell them when you get back to the cornucopia. 

“Nice.” Trink sounds excited.

Five in your alliance, ten out there somewhere. Two of them are Finnick and Blaire. For now, you think that they’re alive. There’s really no way to tell until the canons start blasting and whether or not their faces show up in the sky, indicating their deaths. 

You pack a backpack, preparing to air out of the cornucopia with your alliance. You kick a box open, expecting clothes and useless things but come across a first aid kit and some throwing knives. You pack all of it into your backpack, zip it up and then throw it over your shoulder.

There’s enough food in the backpack to carry you if you get lost or split from your group. There’s a sleeping bag–but you can’t imagine you’ll be needing it anytime soon with this heat–a canteen, some iodine tablets, and a few other useless things. Once the others are ready, you all head off towards the thicker part of the forest, since it’s where you all saw the most tributes fleeing.

The gamemakers waste little to no time picking up the bodies. You’re about a mile into the forest, all spread out in a line, looking for tributes when the canons start. And just as you suspected, it comes out to nine. There haven’t been any extra deaths for now. It’s just a matter of time when there will be.

“So, what would you call the arena this year?” you ask, not wanting to succumb to silence.

“Some sort of island.” Eytelle says.

It’s nice to know they think the same, at least it confirms your thoughts. However, it still makes you wonder if they know about the dangers of an island, just yet. It’s not just dense forest and plenty of trees, it has wild animals.

Allio snuffs, “I’d like to say it’s tropical, but it’s… not.” he says, swatting a branch out of his face, “It’s just your typical wilderness with some curve balls.”

“Tall trees aren’t really curve balls.” Trink says.

Lennox shakes his head, “I think he might be talking about the cliffs.”

And right on cue, all of you look over at the same time. Even through the thick branches of trees, you can see the cliffs. You’re not even that close, but it’s so very obvious how high up in the sky it is. Just leaves a question of whether or not there’s ocean beneath it, or plain ground. Both have a feeling of cement on impact from that kind of height.

“You guys want to take a climb?” Allio asks.

It’s your turn to laugh, “And let everyone know where we are? Do you want them to take from the cornucopia?”

“We’re away from it anyway, so what’s it matter?” Lennox asks, “They have to know because of the bodies being retrieved, right?”

“Maybe.” You say, “Or maybe they think we’re somewhere nearby and we’re going to go right back once they’re gone. And you’re telling me you want to hike up that? What a waste of daylight.”

“What are we even looking for?” Eytelle asks.

“Water.” Trink says just before you can.

And despite your best efforts, you all settle into silence. For about an hour, it’s just walking and keeping an eye out for any hidden tributes. You twist your ring in small circles, trying to keep yourself from biting your nails or anything else that might give off how nervous you are.

You’ve survived the bloodbath, which is possibly the worst part you’ll ever come across in here. Of course, now it’s left to the unpredictability of other tributes, but you ran straight into the cornucopia and made it out alive. You fought two older troubles, one of them the size of a giant, and came out the winner.

It’s good news to Mags and Anchor, you think. Gets a lot of sponsors to line up after taking them down the way you did. However, you bet they saw your not-so-graceful demise after. Falling on top of Horace and losing your lunch… probably not one of your greatest moments. And honestly, you hope that if you do win, that’ll be cut out of the recap.

There’s no guarantee that it was even shown then, actually. You know that the gamemakers tend to switch the cameras when tributes are having private moments. Which includes an array of things, and you think one of those is puking. Either way, it shouldn’t have turned people away.

If they were to be face to face with something so gruesome and gory, knowing that they’re the ones that caused it, you can almost guarantee that they’d lose their breakfast too. Then they’d probably scream and cry and make it a lot more painful. 

Eventually, Eytelle thinks she’s found water. You all follow behind her, with Lennox taking up the back in case someone were to attack. You don’t really feel like standing guard at the back, anyway. After the two people you killed today, you know that you’ll be able to take the person down. But why would you want to?

If he wants to have blood and murder on his hands, then that’s his deal. With the careers, they’re always after the most kills, anyway. Makes their recap when they win interesting, and they end up getting praised for killing half of the arena. It’s not that way in Four, exactly, but it’s definitely that way in One and Two, since that’s the way they think.

District Four is a unique place. Teetering on the edge of being a ‘real’ career and just a plain district. Your poverty rate is higher than the ones in One and Two combined. It’s all because they’re favored a lot more than you guys, as always. And you wonder why that is.

What makes fish so good, huh? You’ve been around it your entire life, and to be honest it’s awful. The smell, the smell when it’s been baking in the sun all day, the smell when it’s been baking and it’s been around sweaty men. And of course, it’s the cheapest thing on the damn market because you have such a surplus of it.

Needless to say, you’ve eaten a lot of fish in your life. And you’re not really looking forward to eating more when you get home. In fact, you think you’ll take your ass down to the butchers and bakery and finally feel what it’s like to be a rich asshole. Just for one day, before you decide that it’s not worth it.

Eytelle was right about water. It’s a small pond, you crouch down and take off the backpack, pulling out the silver thermos and uncapping it. You disturb the water on the top, and then plunge the bottle in to get the water in the middle. The others don’t really do the same, and you can’t care. They’re going to be the ones drinking it.

They have the sense to drop iodine into the water. You all take a moment to take a break at the water. You strip off the white jacket and use the water to wash off the blood. When you’re done, you work on your arms and face.

You dry your hands on your pants. Then you pull off your shoes and dump out the sand and brush the rest out. Out there, there is no sand, it’s just plain grass and dirt. And it’ll be a lot less distracting and uncomfortable if you get rid of the sand all together.

You tie the laces as tight as you did last time, and then sit back and watch as the others finish cleaning themselves off. The blood on Trink’s face is mostly gone, but there’s now pink streaks down her cheeks. Lennox helps her clean it up.

The water is mostly still, sometimes there’s a ripple. You push yourself to your feet, “I’m gonna walk around the pond.”

“Yell if you need help.” Allio mutters, he’s working with a stuck zipper, “Goddamn.”

You pick up the sword, now realizing that you never traded it out for a spear. At this point, you shouldn’t even bother with a spear. You’ve got the hang of the weight, now. And it’s proved to be useful so far, so what’s the point in making you get used to a spear?

Around the pond are a few bushes, lots of trees. The further you walk, the more you can’t hear your friends. To be fair, they’re not even being that loud. If they were yelling like they were earlier, they’d probably be alerting the whole area of where you are. 

You hum to yourself, watching the way that the pond curves. You can’t find any hiding spots, so far. This would be a nice place to stay. Except for the fact that it’s so close to the cornucopia, and plenty of people are going to use it when they pass through. A dangerous spot, actually. It’s risky.

Nonetheless, you look over it anyway, and you’re satisfied to tell the others that the area should be clean, and you can continue walking. After a quick water break, you all head deeper into the woods, planning to stay the night out here.

It’s more of just wandering and useless talk as the sun begins to set. Allio manages to kill a boar, you’re set on the task of making a fire and the others are forced to argue out who’s staying up late tonight to watch over the others. You and Allio keep quiet, not wanting the attention turned to you guys.

It doesn’t work. Eventually, they’re asking what you and Allio think should happen. Allio says he doesn’t want to do it and thinks he shouldn’t be forced to, because of the boar. Eytelle agrees and says that she found the water, so really it’s just a debate between you, Lennox and Trink.

“If I take it, will I get a pass tomorrow?” You ask, knowing that you’re going to be exhausted tomorrow. But if they insist on walking back to the cornucopia, you’re sure that you can push through.

“Yes.” Trink says.

“Then I’ll do it.” You say, and it settles it easily.

You help cook chunks of the boar, and since you’ve volunteered, you get the first bite. It’s unseasoned, and terribly burnt and nowhere near what you’ve been eating the past couple of days inside of the Capitol, but it’s definitely a wake up call. Slowly but surely, the body is broken down, until it’s left to the more unflattering pieces.

When it’s agreed that none of you are hungry anymore, the pig is thrown away from where you all sit. Almost like a warning, that if you could take down a wild, vicious animal with tusks, then it’s a wonder what you all can do in a fight.

Conversation continues as the fire dies out. The warmth is being sucked away with it, and you watch as the others settle down in the grass. You pull on your jacket, thinking that just in case it does get cold, you’re prepared. You’d much rather be warm, than shiver through the entire night.

The anthem starts to play, and this is when you all look up to the sky to see the tributes faces. It starts with Verda, you can feel the pain begin in your chest. She wasn’t even your ally and you feel bad for her death. It’s all Finnick’s fault, with his damn plan on making you friends with everyone inside of the arena.

After Verda is the boys from Five, then Six. Cass shows up, then both from Nine and Ten, and Horace. Surprisingly, it looks like both of the Twelve tributes have survived. They’re young, twelve and thirteen you think you said. Hardly ever eaten and basically no survival skills. The only reason why they’re alive is because they didn’t run to the cornucopia.

The sky fades to black, and this is when everyone finally decides to call it a night. They all find their respective spots, prepared to spend the night on the ground.

Leaned up against a tree, you count the amount of animals you can hear. Birds, cicadas, you think there’s wolves, crickets. Trink rolls over, curling into a ball. She then uses the jacket as a blanket, draping it over her upper half, rather than just pulling it on. Guess it is cold.

The others don’t move as much. They seem to find a position and stay there for hours. It’s hard to find things to think of to keep you awake. You almost wish you had someone to keep you company. Even if you can’t talk, it would be nice to have another pair of eyes catching anything you might have missed.

It’s a good thing you slept well last night, otherwise you’re sure you’d be delusional and be seeing things. You stare down at the ring for a while, feeling yourself doze but not being able to bring yourself out. You’re just so damn tired.

It would be a shame to fall asleep now. Five careers all asleep around each other. Something would be able to sneak up on you, take out the tribute they want. You’d get in trouble for falling asleep and end up dead, yourself.

With a hefty sigh, you lean your head back up and open your eyes. They’re heavy, and you struggle to keep them open. You rub your eyes to wake yourself up more, and the moment you do, a long, low growl fills the air. You can feel your heart sputter and die in your chest.

You don’t want to move your hands. Moving your hands could set off whatever the creature is. You don’t have much of a choice, you think. You two can’t sit here together in some sort of sick stand off. It’s going to jump eventually. Maybe because Lennox rolls over or Eytelle breathes too loudly.

When you remove your hands from your face, you’re very careful. You can see what you missed before. Just opposite to you, a couple of feet back from Trink, is a tall creature with glowing eyes. You can’t seem to remember any animal that would fit the description. Then it dawns on you, and you can feel the blood drain from your face.

There is only one species that is so flexible to make fantasy come to life. And they’re no creature of nature.

They’re Capitol mutations.

You need a plan. If it’s only one, you think you and the others will be able to fight it. It might be tall, but there’s five of you and it should be possible for you all together to take it down.

Then, the eyes double. Going from one to two to four to eight. 

Fighting it out of the question.

As if you’re a snail, you move over to shake Allio. It takes him a moment, eyes opening and ready to ask you the matter. You press your fingers to your lips and motion upwards. He sits up, a harmony of snarls coming from the beasts. He looks just as pale as you feel.

He gets Lennox up next, and together they get Eytelle and Trink. Trink is by far the worst, with the way that one of them looks over her. She pushes herself backwards and towards you guys. Your fingers fumble in the darkness, finding your sword, slipping your backpack strap over a shoulder. 

The moment it’s free, you all have to run, “Cornucopia.” You whisper.

They seem to get it. There’s a silent, very silent countdown between you all. And then you’re on your feet and running. You’re the lead at first, arms swinging at your sides, backpack jostling at every step. But Trink turns out to be faster because she has no backpack, only her weapon.

Behind you, there’s screaming. Loud and clear, inspiring you to continue to go faster so you’re not the one at the butt end of the group. You’re sure that anyone nearby can hear, and they’re wondering if it’s a tribute getting murdered or something worse. If you were them, you’d be assuming the latter.

Eytelle seems to be at the end, and she’s behind. So long for being able to run faster because of her long legs. They’re no use now. You risk a single look behind you to check on her, and with the help of the moonlight seeping through the trees, you’re able to see what they are.

Pure terror.

When you reach back around, a branch whips at your face, feeling the sting linger and the blood begin to run. It’s not only you who has this problem, the others are struggling to get the branches out of their faces before they hit them.

They slap at your jacket, some get snagged but you keep on running and hope that the thorns come clear off and no rips are forced into the jacket. Most of the branches are low, shoulders and below. Your thighs hurt, you dance around the ones that will get tangled in your feet.

Suddenly, Eytelle is shrieking; “They’re bears!”

And you know. You caught a glimpse. Giant, brown grizzly bears with glowing eyes. They weight more than you, they’re bigger than you. It’s the Horace situation all over again. Except this time, they’re the Capitol’s pets and they won’t stop unless they kill one of you.

Eytelle is the closest, so you think she’ll be the one to die. It’s a sick thought on it’s own, but it worsens when you begin to hope that it’s her. Anyone but you. You can get through.

You slip between a pair of thin trees, the backpack getting caught. You get out of one of the straps, turn the backpack sideways and watch as Eytelle catches up. The backpack still isn’t free by the time she whizzes past you. You hold your breath, frozen in time as you watch all eight bears go past you and right after the others. Two bears to every one tribute.

The snapping of branches and screaming gets further. Once you’re sure that they’re not going to come back for you, you detangle the last of the backpack and take a breather. Sweat is dribbling down your forehead, tickling your skin in irritating ways. You catch a hold of your breath, waiting until you go to catch up with them.

You head right first, and then straight, keeping a distance between you and the path that they should have taken. The jacket is making you feel hot again, but with the cold air blowing through the trees, you can’t be bothered to pull it off. It’ll only be a matter of time before you’re cold again.

Just as you begin to slow to a jog again, because you’re so obviously running on fumes at this point. A scream so raw, that you can feel the pain in your own throat, fills the air. It’s enough to make you hesitate on your next step, not wanting to walk in on whatever the hell is happening.

You watch where you step, making sure that there’s no branches or leaves that will crunch. It’s hard to see in the darkness, hard to be sure that every move you make won’t be the last or the cause of your demise. The screaming never stops, never fades into something quieter.

You find yourself getting closer, to your left is the bears. Straight ahead, another half mile it looks like, is the cornucopia. You think you could make it, if you run, not jog. You can’t see the others at all, and telling by the scream, one of them had been caught. The bears might just leave you alone, since they’ve gotten their midnight snack.

Peering through the trees, you’re able to see who it is. Stretched out on a sharp rock is Eytelle. Their hands dig into her limbs, her stomach as they tear her apart. She’s got her head thrown back, mouth open wide in a scream. You almost can’t believe that the animals haven’t shut her up yet. And then, you remember that it’s a show for the Capitol.

It doesn’t have to be, though. If you threw your knife, it would kill her now. Keep her from suffering too, and the others might even appreciate it. To know that you showed a girl you have hardly any knowledge of, mercy. She tries to yell for something, but it’s garbled out in tear-filled sobs that’s eventually interrupted by her own screaming.

Your fingers slip to your belt, pulling the knife out and preparing it in your hand. The distance between the two of you isn’t nearly as long as the spear-throw back inside of the Training Center. In fact, this one should be much easier. 

You wait and wait, looking for a perfect opportunity. Every time you think you have one, they’ll move in front of you. It’s all a game of anticipation. Unpredictable, until you find a pattern. They’re gamemaker controlled, of course. It’s a moving target to keep you on your feet.

The bear moves to the left again, and you throw your knife. You don’t even wait for the canon to go off–which it does–before you take off like a bat out of hell through the trees. You zip up the jacket to your chin, using your sleeves to block your face from the brutal hits of the thin branches that are bound to leave scars.

The roaring is much louder than the screaming. And their running is a lot more ground-shaking than it was the first time around. They’re all pounding against the floor, you can feel the rumble beneath your boots each time they make connection with the grass and dirt.

Before you know it, you can literally feel their hot breath down the back of your neck, feel the spit flying from their mouths during their snarls. One reach and they could grab you and tear you apart, just like they had done to Eytelle before you mercy-killed her. It hasn’t even broken dawn yet, and you’ve gotten your third kill.

You can see where the sand begins, dreading the moment you have to step onto it. In the depths of your chest, you have a feeling that the mutts won’t go further than the trees, and instead will sink right back to either mutilate Eytelle’s body or go back to the circle of hell where they came from.

Your calves and thighs burn, your cheeks flushed and itchy. All these quick breaths have got your mouth dry and throat sore. It’s only a little further, now. It’s right there, you can see it. Feel the free air on your nose. Ten steps, eight, six, four, three, two–

You’re thrown forward, flying over the first few feet of sand before you slam into it. Instantly, you know that something is wrong. And it doesn’t make itself known until you go to push yourself up, and your bag stings painfully. You yelp, tears gathering in your eyes as you give up the idea of saving yourself.

It hurts, even laying here in the sand does nothing but make you twitch. It’s warm, and it feels liquidy. You’re bleeding, and it has to be bad if you can’t even make out a lick of a cold breeze. You grit your teeth, blinking away your tears as you turn your head to the side, looking to the treeline. No bears, no mutts. It’s just you.

“Please.” you beg, you have to pick yourself up. 

The pain alone makes your vision turn black. You have to stop and take a break, using the cornucopia as a crutch to get to your feet. You don’t even know where the backpack or the sword is, anymore. All you can make out through your spotty vision is the vague sense of a campfire light that might be coming from inside of the cornucopia.

You want so badly to reach back and feel the damage, but the second you move your shoulders, you see white and black at the same time. Like heaven and hell clashing together at one, trying their hand at taking you to their paradise. You barely make it around the mouth, startling the hell out of your allies.

Lennox gets to his feet, arms outstretched to you as if you’re a toddler. It’s the same move that you had made to Alyssum when she had begun to walk. Urging her to come to you, and not your brothers. Who might as well be Allio and Trink at this moment.

You don’t want to give up the wall, but reach an arm out to him anyway. The moment you take a step, Lennox catches you.

“She’s gone.” you tell them, “I saved her.”

Two contradicting sentences, but they seem to catch on. You think they’re talking to you, or maybe it’s each other. The words begin to fade, and so does your sense of balance. The world is spinning, the slightest movement of your head has got dizziness stirring in your stomach.

You open your mouth, wanting to ask for help, but getting black vision instead.


	7. Chapter 7

You wouldn’t exactly say that you’re lucky to be alive. More that you’re lucky you had actually gotten back to the cornucopia when you did, that you were sponsored, and your allies hadn’t killed you.

Had you laid in that grass, you would have died. There’s no question about it There’s no way that they would have moved out of the cornucopia after everything that had happened in those trees. Even this morning they’ve seemed to be apprehensive. They won’t admit they’re afraid, but it’s all in their eyes.

Also the sponsor gift that Anchor had sent in. You bet that Mags was already sleeping by then, letting Anchor take the night if she could take the mornings. It would make the most sense. Mags tends to take a lead on things. You noticed that on the train and inside of the Capitol. Anchor mostly sits back and chimes in when he thinks it’s necessary.

Anchor sent in the healing cream, a huge tube of it. Which lets you know that you weren’t getting sponsored by any person, it was someone rich that’s betting on your win. Because of the cream, your back is mostly healed. By tomorrow, it should be nothing but a huge, pink scar that stings.

For now, each time you move your arms and shoulders, it hurts pretty bad on your upper back. It’s no longer bleeding, but it’s open. And so is the back of your blue-grey shirt and the thin, white jacket. Every time there’s a breeze, you can feel it. You need to find a change of clothes.

Although, you’re not really complaining. The cold wind is a small remedy to how hot the wound feels. You aren’t too concerned about it, you vaguely remember the first aid expert in the Training Center telling you that when it feels hot, it means your body is doing it’s job. It’s not going to be infected, not with the healing cream. But your body is still going to act like it is.

Honestly, you’re surprised that you hadn’t died from how much you bled. Not only is your shirt torn, but it’s stained a deep maroon color. Similar to the color of the dress that Trink had worn on the night of the interviews. Only, this time it’s terrifying to see, knowing that it came from your body.

You wonder if your brothers had seen it. Had watched you stick by that tree, catch a breather, and find Eytelle. If they were screaming at the hologram, begging you to keep moving instead of inspecting the scene in front of you, and then grabbing the knife. You know you’d be extremely upset.

You can almost hear them now, how loud and desperate they’d be. Alon with them would be anchor, and maybe Elysia if she’s up that late. All wondering why you didn’t just keep moving. It’s not your problem, it’s not your district mate. It’s an ally that’s offering you a safe escape. The bears will take her as entertainment in trade for your departure.

But then you mercy killed her, taking the entertainment away, and shifting the attention to you, the substitute. 

And then you ran, and nearly made it out of the woods without any repercussions. You were two steps away from freedom, from beating the mutations and showing the Capitol that not only are you merciful and kind, but you’re quick too. You can slip out of their grasp and they can’t do anything about it.

Unfortunately you weren’t quick enough.

Also, in all honesty, you’re not even entirely sure if you killed Eytelle out of mercy, or because when you did make it back to the cornucopia, you just didn’t want to listen to her scream all night. Your allies–and probably the entirety of the Capitol and then some–think that you did it because of mercy, but you don’t care about any of that.

At least it’s kept Allio, Trink and Lennox off of your already shredded back. The last thing you need is them being suspicious of you, and watching every move you make. You think they’re already like that, after how you handled Horace. There’s no reason to fuel it.

If you can take down a seventeen year-old boy, who’s like three times your size and reminds you of the sports players back home, it’s a wonder what else you can do. The moment they start testing those limits is the moment you should probably run, and run far and fast.

For now, you just have to continue being careful with what you say.

Flipping over another box lid, you lean in and rummage through the stuff. More canteens, wire, some rope. Nothing too important. You close it, and move onto the one next to it. You know that the Capitol typically provides two boxes of spare clothes, but you didn’t know how hidden they’d be.

Wincing, you pull the lid open. 

“Are you sure you don’t want help?” Trink asks.

“I’ve got it.” you tell her, “It’s a good pain, a nice burning sensation.”

“I’m not sure if that’s normal.” She laughs, “But it’s nice to see you moving like this, last night was pretty awful. At one point, Lennox was sure you stopped breathing.”

Yes, you remember her telling you this when you woke up. She admitted how relieved she felt. She said you’ve grown on her, you’ve earned your spot in the group multiple times. And when Allio walked away with Lennox to go check out the beach area straight from the mouth of the cornucopia, she told you Allio wanted to find a way to repay you.

It’s nice to have someone in your debt, but you doubt that he’ll actually end up doing anything. He might just thank you or something. You don’t know just yet, they haven’t come back in a while. For a while, the two of you watched them through the trees until you couldn’t anymore.

“I bet.” you say, catching the box lid before the entire thing topples over onto its back, “How badly did I scare you when I came around the side?”

There’s clothes in this box. You can finally change.

“Honestly, we thought you were the one that was caught and Eytelle was the one walking around the corner. We realized we stopped hearing your backpack jostling when we thought about it. We thought that Eytelle had taken some other part. Allio’s always said that she’s slippery when she runs.”

Not enough. She was slow last night. All that boasting of her being able to outrun you all in any situation, was for nothing. You had a heavy sword and a backpack full of supplies and you still kept ahead of her. Had you not tried to slip between the narrow path between the trees, you would have still been ahead of her.

And maybe had even left her to suffer. If you had ran out of the trees with the others, you definitely wouldn’t have ran back inside to shut her up. You would have suffered with the rest, listening to her screams, sobs and pleas for anyone to end it for her. You’re stupid, but not that stupid.

Although, in that hypothetical situation, you can imagine yourself not carrying literally everything on you. It would only be your small knife. No heavy sword, no backpack chocked full of the goodies in the case of you getting separated. In that case, you might still have your backpack and not some shredded fabric and unusable items.

The claws on those bears had to have been long. Because it was enough to tear that backpack straight off your back and still reach your skin. In just one swing of its paw, too. So terrifyingly impressive and it could have cost you your life.

You can’t remember actually seeing that long of claws on the bears last night, though. Of course, it was dark and hard to see enough as it is. All you can remember the most vividly is how bright their eyes were. But when you looked back that one time while running, you were able to see that they were bears before Eytelle announced it.

It’s weird, for sure. Last night doesn’t even seem real to you, and the only things that actively proved it happened is the scratch marks on your back and the fact that Eytelle is nowhere to be seen.

Out of the box, you pull out a new shirt and jacket. You rummage a little more, trying to find a sports bra too, but there’s none. You’d say that you’re annoyed, but it’s not a mandatory thing that you need. The fabric is a little torn towards the bottom, other than that it still does it’s job.

Before the boys come back, you pull the shirt off and toss it into the wood for the fire pile. You pull on the new shirt, Trink helps to make sure it doesn’t catch in your wound on it’s way down. And you tie the new jacket around you waist, since it’s too hot during the day to wear. It’s mostly for the nighttime.

It’s not too cold at night, but it’s not hot either. It’s really riding that line. It’s like springtime in Four, when it’s about to hit summer at any moment. Watching how the temperature rises every weekend, until it’s time for tank tops and shorts again and preparing to sit out on a boat for all hours of the day.

If you win, you’ll never have to fish again.

Right as you close the box and head back to the cornucopia to grab another safe-keeping knife to keep on your belt, Lennox and Allio come back around. Swords in hand, and they’re sweating.

Lennox nods in your direction, “It’s definitely salt water.”

You told him that just before they left. They insisted on double-checking, as if your nose and the years of you living off the west coast smelling the salt wouldn’t be good enough. Then Allio added that they’d check for other things too, so it’s not just the salt water that they were checking.

“Fish?” you ask.

“Think we saw some.” Allio says, taking a seat and pulling out his water. You can vaguely hear it slosh in his bottle. You’re almost out, and it’s time to take a trip down to the pond, “We can’t be sure, though. Who knows what’s out there?”

Plenty of water mutts, you’re sure. You tuck the new knife on your belt and then reach for an empty backpack that’s laying against the wall. Their attention doesn’t stay on you for too long, and it eventually fizzles into a debate on whether or not you all should be going out to hunt tributes again.

It’s around the same time the games started yesterday, which is ten. You think it’s a little past that, maybe eleven to twelve? There’s really no way to tell, there’s no clocks in the arena, and it’s not like you can just make them either. All you really have is the sun, and where it’s positioned over the sky. 

Considering that you guys took hours to get to where you did in the woods, only to rubber band all the way back here, you think it’s useless to go and try to get out there again. However, you all were messing around on the way there. It’s not like you were just walking in a straight line, every now and then you were taking breaks and chasing each other like a group of friends would.

If you go out today, you’ll have to keep on track for a while to make sure that you get passed where you were the first time. And it’s not even guaranteed that you’ll come across anyone. It would be nice to, just so the games aren’t dragged on for too long, but none of you are in control of that.

Then again, you need water. You’re down to half your canteen, and you should have been done with it by now and halfway through the next. One or all of you need to get moving out there. Gather the water and come back and start planning on what’s going to happen for lunch and dinner.

They seem to be on track with your thought process, “We need to find something to eat, though, Allio.” Trink argues, leaning up against the wall, “I’m hungry, and we haven’t eaten since yesterday. It’s noon.”

“That’s not too bad.” Allio says, “If we could hold out a little longer–”

“It’ll just create an unmanageable eating schedule.” Trink flicks a rock at him, and it nails his forehead. You watch his face turn pink, and you think it’s from anger with how his lips are turned downwards like his eyebrows already are.

“Alright, so what’s your brilliant idea?” Allio asks, crossing his arms, “Go ahead.” and when she looks like she’s thinking up a plan, he says, “Right, that’s what I thought.”

“Chill out.” Lennox tells him.

You stuff the backpack with a pocket knife, a fire starter, another first aid kit, a rope, and some other things that you think will be important. Water bottle, small fleece blanket, a change of socks. You cycle through the boxes until you think you’re fine, then you remember your healing cream.

“We need water.” you stab the sword into the sand, pulling it out and doing it again as they open up to allow you into the conversation, “The pond is an hour away. I think I saw fish yesterday, so here’s an idea; I take one of you with me down to the pond to get water and food.”

Trink motions your way, “See?”

“That’s her brilliant idea.” Allio says, “I’ll go with (Y/n).”

“We’ll get stuff for fires.” Lennox says.

Trink yawns, sliding off of the black box she was sitting on, “And I’ll look for a backup plan on food while we’re at it.”

Problem solved with no conflict. You’d hate to see how they’d tear each other apart. There’s still fourteen people left in the games. Four of those being you guys, and the other ten being everyone else. You think if a fight were to break out between Allio and Lennox, Lennox would kill Allio because he knows Trink better.

You think you’d kill Allio too. And even though it would be a perfect time to kill him on the way to the pond, you’ll have to hold back. Killing Eytelle was looked at for mercy, if Allio died, there’s no doubt that Trink and Lennox would be suspicious. It would ruin the thin cover you have already.

On the way out of the cornucopia to go behind it and straight to the pond, you’re able to see how the sand is stained red from the blood of yesterday’s events. Obviously, the gamemakers had collected the bodies after the bloodbath when you all left, but that doesn’t mean they had to clean up the sand too.

It’s a gross color. It’s not like the color that had been on your old shirt. This time, it’s a washed out red. It’s obviously blood, and when Allio walks over a patch of it with no remorse, it crunches beneath his feet. So, not only is it a deadly color, it’s also hard and crunchy and the thought alone makes you gag.

And just before you reach the trees, officially leaving the battlegrounds, you see where you had landed in the sand early this morning when the bears had chased you all the way to the treeline. You can see little shreds of fabric scattered over the sand, and where blood had run when you walked over to the cornucopia to hold yourself up.

After that, you’re in the trees and starting your treacherous walk all the way to the pond. You know you volunteered for it, but the sun beating on your head from above isn’t exactly a pleasant feeling. In fact, you think you liked it better inside of the cornucopia, even though it too, has been baking in the sun and it feels like the inside of an oven.

For the first ten to fifteen minutes of the initial walk, it’s quiet between you two. You spend the time stretching every bit of your arms until your back hurts because of it. Allio stares at the ground, and you begin to notice that you’re taking the exact path you took to escape the bears, but backwards. You begin to urge him to move right, because the pond is in a little dip in a cliff area.

Another ten minutes, and Allio has decided to break the silence, “What did Eytelle look like?”

Your face twists immediately when you go to look at him. You’re sure it’s not a real question until your eyes land on his face. He’s not kidding.

“I don’t…” you shrug, you’re not sure how he wants this question answered.

You remember. You saw her stretched out, back on a rock as claws dug into her skin. You saw the blood running down her skin, the ripped clothes stretched too far. Her mouth open wide in a never-ending scream. It was like she was being tortured for them all to see. It wasn’t nearly as bad as seeing Horace’s skull cracked open, but it was still a sickening sight. Right up there with the decapitation.

“Well, you saw her, didn’t you?” he asks.

“Yes,” you say slowly. How are you going to let him down easy?–assuming that’s what he wants.

“How did she look?” 

You should have asked for Trink or Lennox to come along, if you knew that he’d be pulling some shit like this you would’ve.

“In pain.” you say simply, hoping that’ll be enough.

It’s not, “Come on, (Y/n). You saw her, what did she look like?”

“Ugly.” you finally spit, which has him whipping his head back in your direction, “Covered in her own tears and blood. Her skin and clothes were ripped to shreds, she looked like the type of tribute I’d click my tongue at back home and say ‘a damn shame’.” you look at him, “You happy now? Death is not pretty, it’s gruesome and traumatizing.

“No matter how pretty you are for the cameras, you’re always ugly during death, especially in the arena. I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but stop romanticizing it. She’s dead, Allio. She knew it was coming. Let her rest.”

“That’s how you really feel, huh?”

“It’s the truth.” you swear to god, if he tries to spin this on you later, you’ll tear him down. Forget him and Trink butting heads, if he even tries to get rid of your spot in the alliance, you’ll make sure it’s his last words.

This all reminds you of what you thought earlier. If you pulled half the shit that they do in here, you’d have your hands slapped and be reprimanded by nearly everyone. Naida’s family, your brothers, people in The Square, everyone at school. They’d all think that something is wrong with you or whoever parented you.

You knew there was a culture difference between the districts, but you didn’t know exactly how bad it was.

You swing the sword in your hand, and you’re glad that Allio doesn’t continue to bring it up. You said what you said, and you’re not going to hand out apologies. And so long for him being in your debt, because you might have just ruined that between you and him.

At the pond, you take the task of filling up the waters, while he adds the iodine drops to them. He shakes, and then moves on. When you’re done gathering water, you go a little further down the pond with him. He helps clean the dried blood off of your back, and when the water stops running pink, you pull your shirt back on.

With the water and fabric combined, you can feel just how good the breeze is against your skin. With the new information, the two of you dunk your shirts in the water, squeeze enough to leave the shirts damp and then wear them. You drink your cleaned water, and figure that Allio can gather more by himself while you wander along the water.

Yesterday, you remember not finding any good spots, but it’s nice to check anyway to ease your mind. If you don’t find any tributes, it’s just insurance that no one will come running later tonight or whatever. Tonight, all the other tributes will know that you’ve lost someone in your alliance. It will be tempting to come and attack.

You’re about to call it, wanting to go back to Allio since you can’t hear him humming anymore. But there’s a rustle in the bush in front of you, that would be to your back if you turned around. You hesitate for a moment, because whatever is in the bush now knows that they messed up. You know that they’re there, and they know it’s any moment before they get hunted.

They shouldn’t have weapons though, and you think it’ll be more tempting to pounce on you, if you turn your back. A dangerous plan, but you’ve got to bait them out of the bush without jumping in there, yourself. The bush and whatever could be behind it, like a trap.

You turn, “Stupid animal.” and pretend you don’t hear the leaves after that, either.

A couple steps back towards Allio, you hear the twig snap, and go to turn back around again, sword weighted in your hands. But there’s a pair of arms around your neck and legs around your hips, like a hug. The arms are small and you think you can break them free, but they’ve got an iron lock. And with how they’re pressed against you, they’re rubbing against the open wound on your back.

You reach for the sword, which is now laying on the bank and is teetering over the edge. And the moment you do go to grab it, there’s yanking on your hair to keep you up, a loud and screaming pain in your temples.

Fuck.

You inhale as much as you can through your nose—which isn’t a lot—turning your back to the water. You can hold your breath for over three minutes. These other tributes? They’ve never seen bodies of water deeper than puddles in their districts. Without a single noise coming from you, you throw yourself back into the water, holding onto the arms around your neck.

If you’re going down, someone is going with you.

The cold water engulfs you. For a moment, it’s like you’ve parted the sea, until it all comes crashing over you. In that time, you can hear the tribute holding onto you, gasps. They must have realized their mistake. Not even a second later, they’re trying to struggle out of your grasp.

Too late, they’ve dug their grave, now it’s time to lay in it. If they were smart, they wouldn’t be struggling like how they are. They’d be playing dead, and they’d have a better chance at holding their breath. And they would have had a chance at escaping.

They loosen their arms just big enough for you to slip out of which causes a nice, searing pain to go through your back because of the friction. When you turn them to face you, hands on their wrists and eyes glaring in their direction, you can hardly make out their face. You can’t tell who it is, but you guess that doesn’t really matter. Either way, it’s going to be painful on their part.

They’re kicking their legs, trying to get their wrists free from your hands. You just hold on, occasionally kicking to keep yourself near the surface so it’ll be easy to reach when they do die. You realize this is like teasing them, knowing that if they could just get free, they’d be able to breathe.

They’re yanking, and you watch as they go to kick your stomach. You turn them to the side, watching their leg go right through the murky water. You kick to get back up again, but they’re beginning to drag you down.

You knew that the pond was going to be fairly deep, but you keep sinking way past the point you thought you’d stop. The light above begins to have trouble making its way through the dirty water. And you finally watch the tribute in front of you take in their first breath of water.

And they choke, you let go of their hands and watch as they immediately go to grab their neck as if it’ll help the pain that’s beginning to flare. With each gulp comes a more panicked look, eyes wide and almost bulging from their sockets.

You don’t watch anymore, feeling a deep burning pain in your own chest. It’s a good burn, reminds you of all the times you’ve held your breath to beat your past score. As you swim to the surface, you think you can make out the figure of Allio, standing over the water.

Trying to swim up while wearing the boots is hard, but it’s even worse with all the clothes and jacket you have on. Had you been barefoot, you’d be above water by now. 

A hand plunges into the water, outstretched in your direction. You give a few more hard kicks before you’re reaching up too, grabbing onto the hand. They pull you out of the water, hand first and then your head.

You gasp through your mouth, grabbing onto the grass to keep yourself from sliding back in. You’ll remember this, how deep the water is. You just kept sinking and sinking. If one of the others had jumped in here, thinking that they could just float, they would have ended up like that other tribute.

A cannon sounds, and Allio is pulling you up the bank a little more. When you’re halfway onto land, he leaves you to do the rest. Underwater you can actually feel how heavy you are, but on land you feel it all, and then some. The jacket around your waist is weighing you down.

With one hand, you push the hair out of your face, still taking deep breaths, “I saw them in the bushes but I didn’t know that they’d do that.”

“Who was it?” He asks, crouching down. He’s pulling your sword away from the edge, “Did you see?”

“No, the water is so dirty down there.” You turn over, sitting on your butt as you squeeze the water from your hair, “It’s deep, Allio. Anyone who can’t swim well can easily drown. It just kept going and going.”

“We’ll stick next to the shallow end for now on.” He says.

You get to your feet, not liking the way the inside of the shoes squish and how the water runs out through the seams. You remember that you packed dry socks for a reason like this, but there’s no point to put them on. The shoes will just get them wet again.

You squeeze the shirt, and then as much as the jacket as you can. While you’re gathering your sword in your hands again, you and Allio watch the body appear at the top of the pond. For a moment, you can’t seem to register the fact that they’re facing upwards because of how bloated their face is.

And then it clicks. A boy who can’t be any older than thirteen is floating on the water. There were only two tributes that were younger than you and Finnick, and it was the District Twelve tributes. 

No matter who it is, it’s bad either way. The girl was only twelve, and the boy thirteen. It doesn’t matter, that one year doesn’t matter. You just killed someone that’s so young, it’s sickening. Their parents back home in Twelve are crying over them, and you’ve just been labeled a child murderer.

It was luck that they managed to survive past the first day. Had the boy–you think it’s the boy in the water–not taken the bait of you turning your back, he would still be alive. Might even be running far away from the pond. But he didn’t, he jumped, and you killed him because of it.

It’s survival of the fittest. It’s not your fault.

“We should start heading back to the cornucopia.” Allio says, watching the gallons of water leave your jacket. It’s holding more than you anticipated, and it actually seems to be where the bulk of the weight is coming from. Of course.

“In a second, what if the Twelve girl is around?” you ask, regripping the sword in your hand. Then, you use the blade to very gently scrape off mud from the back of your jeans.

“How about I handle her?” Allio asks, holding the backpack out to you.

You take it, pulling the straps around your shoulders, “Don’t fall into the water. I’m not going to save you.”

“Good to know.” he says, “We’re even now, by the way.”

He starts walking around the area, stabbing through bushes with his sword. Even? For what?

“What do you mean?” you ask, shifting on your feet. You can feel the water squish between your toes.

“Eytelle.” Is all he says, and it’s enough for you.

After checking around the area for a final time, the two of you regroup and head right back for the cornucopia. There’s no reason to fuck around, your feet are already going to hurt enough as it is by the time you reach the cornucopia. Why make it worse?

The conversation back isn’t much better than the Eytelle conversation, but at least he’s not asking you what it was like to watch Twelve boy drown. Instead, he’s asking you about your own personal experiences with water. 

“District Two is pretty dry.” he says, “No water.”

“There has to be water somewhere, you’re just not allowed to see it. But I believe you on the dry thing, you’re mostly desert, right?”

“Yes.” he says, “Makes for hot summers and freezing winters with barely any snow unless you live up north.”

“Sounds miserable.” you snort.

“What about you? What’s it like in Four?”

You shake your head, looking up, “Well, up north it’s freezing and it gets the most weather. That’s where I am, but down south there’s intense heat and humidity and all that.”

“You get rain?”

“Frequently during the spring and fall, snow in winter, and barely any hot weather in summer.” you slide the sword into a small fabric piece on the side of the backpack, making it so you don’t have to carry it all the way back. When you reach over, you find the handle easily.

“Sounds a lot more exciting.”

You shrug, you wouldn’t say that. Your district may get nice weather and pretty views, but with how much fish you’re bringing in and the way that you live next to salt water, there’s some smells that are permanently stained into you. Salt water, fish and sweat is how Cleo had loudly said on the day you first met them all. And honestly, you thought you did a good job with trying to mask the smell.

The night of the interview, she told you that you’d done a complete one-eighty. You’d gone from smelling like home to smelling like the Capitol. Which is extremely strong and expensive cologne and perfume that you’d have to sell your house a hundred times over to even begin to afford the cheapest selection.

Although, with how Allio has described District Four, you think that they might have it worse. Back home, you’re all used to the smell because there’s no real… variety… so to say, with how the district smells. Of course, in the south it might smell like hot, baking fish that’s been sitting in the sun all day, compared to just sweat and fish. 

But in District Two–as Eytelle had proudly stated hours before her death–they’re all able to afford perfumes. And it’s not like you’re saying that Four can’t afford perfumes, but the higher class don’t necessarily associate with lower class unless it’s for business. So typically, you’re not smelling anyone with perfume unless it’s some kid wearing it to school.

Anyway, back to what you’ve tried to say; you have a feeling that District Two citizens smell like sweat, labor and perfume and cologne combined. Which is an awful smell, you can imagine. The perfume, shampoo, body wash and all of that, that your prep team had chosen all either smelled fruity or expensive. And you’re already getting a headache at the thought of mixing a fruity smelling perfume with sweat.

Deodorant exists, but like… there’s a huge problem with those scented ones too but you won’t get into that. You’ve already made your point. While Two might have low poverty rates and winning tributes, they smell like sweat from baking in the sun and try to fix it by spraying on perfume. That’s what you think, at least.

Naturally, a lot of Four people spend their time in the sun–the boats and fishing, hello–but you’re all used to it by now. After spending hours and hours in the sun, and watching people around you do the same, you’ve all managed to form the same habit to keep yourselves from smelling too bad.

But then again, Cleo proudly saying you smelt like sweat could just mean that all of this was futile. You’re not as nice smelling as you like to think. That, or the smell has been permanently etched into your skin since the day you were born, and the only way of escaping it is to not live in Four anymore. Which definitely isn’t going to happen.

There’s no more talking for the rest of the way back to the cornucopia. By the time you see it through the trees, you’re starting to feel a bit sick because of how hungry you are, and the shirt and your jeans have dried. 

Before you walk into the sand, you have the mind to pull off your socks and shoes to make sure that they won’t make mud on the way to the cornucopia. The good news is that Trink and Lennox have food cooking by the time you get inside. They immediately noticed how disheveled you are, though.

“What happened?” Trink asks.

“Drowned the Twelve boy in the pond.” you pull off the backpack and set it next to where you’ll be sitting at. Then you start squeezing out the water off to the side, “You guys need to be incredibly careful, it’s deep.”

“How deep?” Lennox asks, “Waist, throat…?”

“Fifteen and deeper. Way past your head, obviously.” you put a box out into the sun, lay your jacket on it, and then your socks. On either side of the box is your shoes, and all you can do is hope that the sun will have them dried fairly quickly.

You pull out your ponytail, and then gather it all back up messily into what it was before. You sit between Lennox and Allio after that, watching as another pig is cooked over the fire.

“So that was the cannon.” Trink leans against the wall, “For a second, we thought it was the other tributes fighting it out.”

“Hardly.” Allio says, “(Y/n)’s on a roll.”

Lennox is bobbing his head along, “Yeah, how many is that now?”

You’re uncomfortable, and you trace patterns into the sand, not answering the question. Your silence doesn’t matter to them, because they start marking off the tributes they killed during the cornucopia and trying to pinpoint which ones belonged to you.

By the time that the food is ready, they’ve got Horace, Eytelle and the Twelve boy under your name, completely missing the mark with the Ten girl. They’ve got pretty hefty numbers themselves, but you already knew that. Lennox with the Ten and Six boys, and Trink with the Five boy. You’re not entirely sure with Allio, because he’s not exactly giving up numbers or names. You think his is zero.

“I actually think I got that Seven girl, too.” she draws another line next top her, “Me and (Y/n) are tied.”

No, not tied. She’s just under you, and it makes her just as dangerous as you are. You wonder if you can downplay your kills down to one or two, and not even three. Makes you less of a threat, doesn’t keep their eyes on you. Turns their attention to Trink next.

“I didn’t even kill the Twelve boy.” you reason, and Allio’s eyebrows are drawing in, because he clearly watched you come up victorious, “Just because I dragged him under, doesn’t mean I killed him. Honestly, it’s the water that did all the work. I couldn’t even get a hold of him, I just kept making sure he stayed under.”

“So two and a half, then.”

“No, with that logic, Eytelle isn’t even a kill either.” Lennox says, “He’s half, like an assist or something. The mutts did most of the job.”

You don’t think that the gamemakers are playing along in this case. All kills are final under a tributes name. You finished off Ten girl, and Horace, and Twelve boy. Those are all fair and square, those were under your conditions, you bent them to your will. With Eytelle it’s a little more sketchy, because you weren’t fighting her directly, but you guess it could count because you ended her life.

Four deaths already and it’s only been two days. 

“So, two then…?” Trink asks.

“Might as well give her one, at this point.”

You shrug, “It makes the most sense.”

“Fine, (Y/n) gets one because of Horace. I get three,” Trink puffs her chest, “Lennox gets two and Allio gets… “ her face twists, and then she looks at him, “Half because he killed a pig last night.”

His face twists angrily, but you and Lennox let out a laugh at the same time. It seems to diffuse the tension enough to make Allio’s face relax, but he’s clearly not happy with what Trink has said. She giggles along, smiling down at the sand.

“I got someone.” he says.

“Yeah? Like who?” Lennox asks, he’s slicing his knife through the skin of the boar, and on the inside you can see that it’s cooked.

“One of the nobodies from Nine, I think.”

“Boy or girl?” You ask, you can’t remember their names and you can hardly remember their faces.

“Boy.”

“You’re just bullshitting at this point.” Trink says.

“Shut the fuck up.” Allio snaps, and she’s raising her eyebrows, and then giving you a wide-eyed look like she’s saying, ‘someone’s got their panties in a twist’ and she’s totally right.

“It’s ready.” Lennox says, and you all fall into silence as you tear into the pig.

The rest of the day is spent inside of the cornucopia. When it starts hitting the evening, you go out to check the salt water to see if there is fish. The moment you peer into the water, you know that it’s almost a lost cause. You’d have a better chance of fishing in the pond, but you don’t remember seeing any fish in there either.

The other’s aren’t too worried, saying that you’ll just kill boars and eat crackers until you run out. What happens after that? Lennox says he’ll start hunting for the smaller animals after that. For now, there’s no reason to bother if there’s food at your fingertips.

Almost an hour before the faces in the sky show, you’re pulling your socks and shoes back on. The socks are dry but the shoes are pretty wet, even after you’ve been squeezing the water out of the soles in uneven intervals. The jacket has been dry for a while, so you pull the stiff fabric back over your arms and zip it up to your chin.

You find a nice spot towards the back of the cornucopia that’s behind a pile of boxes. You make it your hope, and have everything set up in arms-length. To your right, at the same height of your hips is your small knife. The sword is off to the left, which will be easy for an intruder to see.

During the anthem, you’re nibbling on your crackers, watching the faces appear. First is Eytelle, naturally since she’s from Two. Now, everyone knows who was screaming early this morning. Everyone knows you’re down to four. Finally, the boy from twelve. The anthem finishes off with a flourish, and the sky goes dark.

Lennox volunteers to watch this time around, and after Trink helps you apply more of the healing cream, you’re laying down in your cozy spot and sleeping for the rest of the night.

In the morning, you wake by yourself. Allio has got his knees pulled to his chest, bags beneath his eyes as he rests his chin on his knees. Every now and then he yawns, as if you guys have woken up early into the morning, but by judging the sky, you can clearly tell it’s nowhere near early. It’s ten or later.

“Where’s Trink and Lennox?” you sit up, scratching the back of your head. 

You can feel the sand falling from your hair and down the back of your shirt, which is so damn gross. Not only do you have shit from the pond yesterday stuck in your hair, you also have sand. Sounds like you need to go down to the salt water and ‘wash’ your hair.

Allio yawns again, this time struggling to tame it. He closes his eyes, and places his forehead on his knees, “Out. They’ve been gone for thirty minutes, now. They should be back soon.”

“Right.” you say, picking up your knife, “Well, I’m going down to the beach to scrub my hair.”

“Don’t want to wait for a buddy?”

“Nah.” you pull off the jacket, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“‘Kay.” 

You roll your eyes, stretching your arms on the way to the beach, and you realize immediately that your back doesn’t hurt at all when you do. It’s a good sign. You knew that it wouldn’t be open for much longer. For good measure, you should apply one last layer, you think. No matter what happens, there’s going to be a scar on your back but you want to make sure that it’s completely closed.

It’s a two minute walk to where the beach is. And since you learned your lesson yesterday with the pond, you take off your socks and shoes and roll your jeans to your thighs. The water is pretty cold when you wander in, you’re sure to watch your step and when you find yourself knee-deep in water, you pull your hair out.

You leave the tie around your wrist as you flip your hair over, not exactly thrilled when you watch the debris fall from your hair. You scratch for a while until there’s nothing coming from it anymore. Then, you find a new spot to stand and dip your hair in, again scrubbing with your nails. Your hair isn’t exactly greasy just yet, but it’ll get there soon.

You run your hands through your hair to fix the snarls, and then with your head still being upside down, you gather it all into a ponytail, and stand up straight. You wrap the tie around your hair twice, letting it fall into place. When it’s still too loose, you tighten the ponytail, squeezing out the water immediately after.

It’s not much better, but your scalp isn’t as itchy, and you don’t have many options. You carry your socks and shoes back to the cornucopia, and right through the hot sun. You and Allio wait a while, and when your feet are dry, you brush off all the sand and put your socks and shoes back on.

Finally, Lennox and Trink come out of the trees to the left of the mouth. Over there should only be beach, so you’re not sure what’s taken them so long. It isn’t until they’re within earshot, do you hear that they were scoping out the area to check for camps. Last night, Lennox said he thought he saw someone but he couldn’t be sure.

“It’s clear, I think.” he says, Trink doesn’t bother to sit down, “We took two laps, looking everywhere and didn’t find anything.”

“That’s good.” Allio says, “What’s next?”

“I’ve got to pee.” you say, pushing yourself up from where you sit, “And we need a water refill again.”

Lennox picks up his canteen, and then swishes around the water inside, “Got most of mine left, I’ll be fine.”

“Not me.” Trink says, “You should be drinking more.”

“My funeral, not yours.” Lennox leans back, yawning now too, “I’m going to take a nap.”

Trink picks up her silver water bottle, your canteen and Allio’s in one big swoop, “(Y/n) and I will go and get more water, then. You two stay here. We’ll find something while we’re out.”

“Sounds good to me.” Allio says, “There’s not much to do, anyway.”

“Actually, there is.” Lennox is barely keeping his eyes open, “We should gather a lot of food today so we can go exploring tomorrow. There’s still… what? Thirteen tributes out there?”

“Eleven.” you say.

He motions in your direction lazily, “I’m going to nap, when I get up, me and you are going to go out looking for shit. While I’m sleeping, you can go through the boxes and find crackers and useless shit like that.”

“Sure.” Allio says, “Looks like we’ve got the easy half today.” 

Trink shrugs, “You can think that.”

You go ahead and grab your stuff, now. You slide the water bottles and anything that Trink wants to bring along into the backpack. Then the sword, and you’re on your way out and back towards the pond. An hour trip like this everyday is going to take out your water weight from how much you sweat because of it.

“We can find a spot for you to do your business.” Trink says, diverting the two of you off the path, “Preferably not in the way we’ll be walking back.”

You laugh a little and she smiles.

When you’re done, you and her get right back on track to the pond. But unlike Allio, she won’t let it settle into a silence. No matter what happens, she’s on top of conversation and she’ll switch topics when she realizes that it’s failing or you don’t have much to say.

It’s a fun conversation, and you’ve come to realize that there’s a difference between her and Allio. Allio is down to talk about the dirtier stuff, the type of shit that makes him qualified to be a career. Trink on the other hand is… deceiving. Obviously she’s got her muscles and brute strength like the other boys, but she’s so… girly.

Reminds you of the annoying girls back home, except she’s different. She finds a way to dance between the lines between flattering and irritating, keeping you from truly hating her. She’s likable, but not entirely. You’re sure it’ll be a matter of time before she accidentally finds a way to get under your skin.

For now, you’re just glad you have someone to talk to.

Trink twists her blonde hair between her fingers, making it into a spiral. Then, she ties a ponytail at the base of her neck. She gives you a quick smile before launching right back into what she was saying before. 

At the pond, she finally eases up and let’s you explain to her where everything had happened yesterday. She says she’ll keep the deep end in mind, and gathers the water and lets you do the iodine drops. She doesn’t want to go back just yet, wanting to rest so the two of you sit in the shade beneath a tree and eat enough food to settle your stomach and keep the nausea at bay.

“What was going on between you and Finnick?” she asks, “If you don’t mind me asking. I’m just curious on why he didn’t join us.”

You hum, “We were in an alliance, originally. Him and I have known each other for a pretty long time. I think he didn’t want to be allies with you guys when you came over after the chariot ride.” you rip grass from the ground, making a pile, “Maybe he didn’t like your vibes or whatever. He is fourteen, so maybe it’s a thought process thing.”

“Yeah, I was just curious as to why he chose them over us.” she picks at her nails, “I mean, they’re not going to be much help, and I can’t imagine how they’re going to help him win.”

“They’re not.” you say, shaking your head.

Finnick’s best bet was you. The two of you might have scored fairly high, but you clearly knew better than he did. Had he latched on, he would be doing just fine. Wouldn’t have to worry about dinner or watching his back. Assuming that he didn’t meet up with Blaire and Thyme.

He might have, you don’t know. What you do know is that Verda died, and if Finnick had been around, he would have had a friend to rely on, and vice versa. Having Finnick on your side at all times would have been nice, just in case things do start to get choppy with your career friends, he would have been there to even it out.

You think you’re doing fine for now, so there’s really no reason to worry.

“You think he’s going to die?”

“He’s fourteen.” you say, “The youngest victor ever was fifteen. If he were to win, it would be unheard of and break the record. Give hope to the future twelve and thirteen year olds that get chosen. I hardly doubt that they have a chance, though. I didn’t when I was that age.”

“Neither did I.” Trink says.

You’re not that surprised. No one should be ready for the games at twelve and thirteen. Not even at fourteen or fifteen, it’s just so young. At your age, your brain is still developing and it holds onto the trauma. Every time you close your eyes when you go to sleep now, all you can picture is their dead faces.

It’s your fault. You caused every single one of them. And somehow, justifying the deaths as a benefit to your survival, or so that you could live is so much worse. You don’t want other people to die so you can live another day. You don’t want that blood on your hands. But you don’t have much of a choice.

It’s your life or them. It’s seeing your family again, or dying a death that will haunt them forever. The baby sister that fought for her life many times, but in the end she couldn’t make it out alive. 

“Well, Eytelle and I thought you and him were dating with how close you are.” 

Figures, the other girls had thought this too, “Yeah, you’re not the only one. We’ve just known each other for a while. I hate that Four will lose one of us.”

Trink’s eyebrows draw in, “One of you? What does that mean?”

“One of us is going to win.”

“We’ll see.” She says, suddenly getting stuffy. She gets to her feet, brushing off her jeans. You get up without her help.

The two of you wander through the woods for a while, quiet with no conversation. You find out quickly that you’re a lot more quiet on your feet than she is. Eventually, you decide to call it and send her back to the cornucopia, saying that you’ll stay out here by yourself.

“And what if there’s other tributes?” she asks.

“I can take care of myself.”

“Remember what happened the last time you did that?” Trink motions to her back.

You sigh, “Do you want meat other than pig or what?”

She doesn’t argue, you pass off the waters and then watch her disappear through the trees. You go right back to the pond, pulling out a nice branch and getting to work on some makeshift fishing pole. The wire that they provide at the cornucopia isn’t the best, but you make do for it being the fishing line.

You use a small bit of wire to make a hook, and then dig around in the dirt of the pond bank to find a single worm. You apologize to the worm, and then skewer it through the hook. It’s nowhere near the worst thing you’ve done in your life, and nothing like that is going to come close for a while.

You throw the stupid thing into the pond, the only reason why you’re even doing this is because you think you saw a ripple earlier when you and Trink were talking. You’d say you wish you had a spear, but spearing fish here would be useless. Like completely useless, since you’re not standing up and doing it, and the fish won’t appear at the shallow end.

After about ten minutes you think, you’re sure that this is futile and you’re only making a joke out of yourself to the Capitol and everyone back home. So long the idea of impressing everyone with your stupid fishing pole. But then there’s a tug, and a large part of you is hoping that it’s not a mutt, and the other has a feeling it’s a fish.

You’re hesitant with the wire, now realizing that it could slice through your hand if you’re not careful. So, you pull out the metal water bottle that’s halfway empty, and wrap the wire around the bottle as if you’re pulling in the line. And slowly but surely, whatever it is is being dragged up.

Then, you can see it. And you’re yanking the whole lot of it backwards and onto land. It’s a fish alright, and even though you can’t name what it is–you’re mostly used to salt water fish, not fresh–you think it’s edible, so you let it flip around until it’s done moving. After that, you wrap it in your jacket because you smell like fish anyway, and tuck it into the backpack and try for a round two.

It’s a lot harder this time. The wire is in a coil and it takes you a hot minute to even get it straighted out again. Finding a worm is pretty hard too, because you need a damn bait to even get the fish curious. When you find one, you’re plunging the wire back into the water and playing the waiting game again.

You hum an old fishing song that your father used to sing on fishing trips with your brothers while you wait. You vaguely remember Reed singing this back home. When he does, it’s always because he’s trying to focus on something. Normally when he’s making dinner or he’s fixing something in the house. He’s a hands-on type of person.

You manage to get a second fish up, and right when you think you should test your luck with a third, you hear a cannon blast. You pause, hands slowly folding the fabric over the second fish, waiting for another cannon but there is none. Knowing that it could be someone back at the cornucopia, you tuck the fish back into your backpack at the bottom. You fill your water bottle up again, and then toss the fishing pole in a bush so that you don’t have to carry it back.

After that, you’re starting your way back, being sure to watch your back. You don’t want to be the second cannon that goes off today. It takes one person to kill you to get their hands on your goods for the games to turn in their favor. 

You make it back to the cornucopia in record timing, you think. You shout Trink’s name, letting them know that it’s you. Her and Lennox round the corner, swords out and ready. When they confirm that it’s you, they ease up.

“Thought it was you.” Lennox breathes.

“It won’t be that easy.” you joke, and watch as they crack a smile, “I’ve got fish.”

Allio is skinning a rabbit, and there’s already a squirrel hanging from the ceiling. He looks up at your approach and gives you a gentle nod before going back to what he was doing.

“That’s good. I caught a rabbit on my way back.” Trink is proud.

“And she butchered it.” Allio says, shaking his head.

You sit down in your cove, unloading your water bottle and placing your knife and things back where they belong. You pull the fish out of your jacket, and begin to descale it.

“Who do you think it was?” Allio asks, and you bite the inside of your cheek.

Yeah, you figured he’d ask a question like this. He was the one prying about Eytelle, after all. You keep quiet and let the others fill in for your silence. You all come to an agreement that the fish should be eaten first so it doesn’t smell too badly tomorrow.

You cook the rabbit and squirrel anyway, wrap them in a clean shirt. Then, Trink clears out a small box just for the food. Once it’s closed, it’s an agreement between the four of you that it won’t be touched until tomorrow. The sun seems to set a little faster this time around.

Tomorrow you’ll all be out in the woods looking for other tributes to take down. You don’t think that you’ll be coming across anyone, but you don’t take the night shift anyway, letting Trink take it by herself. You all wait for the death recap in the sky, and only one face shows up. The girl from Twelve.

Only twelve tributes left in the arena.

You and the two boys go ahead and settle for the night. In the case of Trink being exhausted, she’s to wake Allio. You’ll be getting a full night’s rest tonight. You pull the thin, white jacket back onto your body and curl up in your sandy cove. This time, you pull up your hood to keep the sand out of your hair.

You stand no chance against the exhaustion.


	8. Chapter 8

“Okay, but you have to expand on that.” Allio says, motioning to Trink and Lennox while staring directly at you. There’s a look on his face that says ‘can you believe them?’ and honestly, you can’t. They’re so vague, it’s like they want you two to keep on asking questions.

“I don’t think we do.” Lennox says, “In fact, I think the conversation should stop here.”

“Okay.” Trink snorts, “You’re just mad that I’ve brought it up again.”

Lennox doesn’t even deny what she’s saying, nodding right along with raised eyebrows. He clearly wants her to shut up, but Trink has no intention of actually doing that. So, she pauses from sharpening her knife for a moment, and looks dead at you and Allio. This makes Lennox roll his eyes.

“I give up.” he mutters.

“Good.” Trink doesn’t even look sorry, “Here’s how things actually went down–”

“It’s the wrong version of the story!”

“I thought you were giving up.” you say, which causes you all to start laughing.

Lennox’s face is a light shade of red, but he crosses his arms, and then motions for Trink to start. Trink gives him a white smile, and turns back to you guys.

You continue organizing everything inside of your backpack, not really wanting to have things be a mess on the inside. You and Trink will be sharing this bag, and Allio and Lennox will be sharing the other. Just so you all aren’t carrying your own separate things. 

As soon as you and Allio are done, you’ll all be heading off and into the woods for a few days. This, of course, leaves the cornucopia up for grabs, but since you all weren’t able to do this properly on the first day, you decided to make up for it. On the way into the forest, you’ll stop at the pond for a quick refresh of water and then you’ll be walking the rest of the day.

The chances of you guys catching anyone is slim. The island looks huge, and since none of you have experience out here, it’s going to be a while before you become accustomed to the land. And it’s a little worrying that you’ve spent several days inside of the cornucopia. It just means that the other tributes know what they’re doing out there.

There’s only twelve tributes left in the games. The four careers–you guys–Finnick, Thyme, Blaire, and five others. You think one of them is Mac, from District Seven, and you’re not too surprised that he’s survived this long. He scored fairly high, but he’s not career material at all–and neither are you, you think. Out of all the districts, you think that only three of them have two tributes left in the games.

District One is Lennox and Trink, and they’re very obviously still alive. You’re alive, and you don’t remember seeing Finnick in the sky at all. So there’s another batch, and you think, you’re not entirely sure, that District Eight is the third district. You hope that you’re remembering that correctly.

Although, you’re not sure if it actually matters how many districts still have two tributes. In fact, you think that the count of the amount of tributes that are still alive in total is the important number. Eleven people alive, not counting yourself. The games are already halfway over, and with how the death’s have been going, you think that it’ll be over in no time.

Trink clears her throat, letting you three know that she’s about to begin her story, “I’m a senior, and so is Lennox. And back home, we’re semi-popular because we play sports together after school, and it’s why I look like this.”

Alarms start ringing in your head, because there is no way that she’s that strong and buff looking just because she’s playing a couple of sports throughout high school. With arm muscle like that, she’s had to have been lifting weights or something like that. Better yet, the best explanation for why she’s obviously so beefed up, is because of the private training academies there are in the career districts.

As far as you know, there is none in Four. Then again, you live in such bad poverty that you wouldn’t ever qualify for a place like that. Either you have to pay to get in, or you have to take a portion of your victory royalties and pay them off to the place. In all honesty, you’re not sure if it’s worth it at that point.

Of course, being able to know how to fight and defend yourself and having so much confidence in winning is a nice mindset. Makes you prepared, blocks out all that hesitation and panic that happens most of the time. But on the other hand, it’s plain cheating.

Districts One and Two have it going on, and everyone knows that. Even the Capitol knows that there’s something suspicious going on inside of the districts, they just do nothing about it. Why? Because they’re favorites. They make the stuff that the Capitol likes the best. Which is jewelry and all that other bullshit.

For Trink try to pass it off as school activities is dumb. Everyone knows what’s going on. You just have a feeling she just doesn’t want to admit it out loud. After that, it’ll be confirmed and President Snow might just have to take actual action in shutting it down. Then again, he doesn’t seem like he would do that.

Those districts are the least resistant and most compliant with what the Capitol demands. Anything that the citizens want, they’ll deliver. Because it’s keeping them rich and on top of it. Keeps their victor’s villages plentiful and their poverty rates down. Nasty ass cheaters.

“Lennox had this thing with a girl going on. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, not even to me. But I’m smarter than that and caught on pretty quickly.” She says.

“Right.” Lennox says, there’s no intention for him to keep quiet, “That’s why you were so shocked when I finally told you.”

“I’m a great actress, what can I say?”

Lennox is laughing, “Bullshit! You’re a terrible actress. Fuck that story, do you two want to hear the time she was recruited for the school play?”

Trink’s eyes have narrowed dangerously and she’s pointing her finger in Lennox’s direction, “You shut up.”

“Then you shut up.”

“Lennox and the girl went into an empty classroom one day during lunch–” 

“Shut up!” Lennox shouts.

Allio’s laughing, you’re zipping up the backpack with a smile, and Trink is having a hard time getting out the words, “It was a connecting classroom. There was a door to get to the classroom behind it for whatever reason.”

Lennox’s wiping his face, “No–”

“And in the connected classroom, was an english class taking a quiz, and the teacher in that room is so damn mean. Lennox and the girl start going at it, and I mean they’re getting into it–”

“Okay!” you laugh, “I don’t need the details.”

“The girl moaned his name once, and the entire class on the other side heard them. But no, Lennox and–what was her name?” Trink turns and looks at Lennox.

“I’m not telling you.”

“It starts with something fancy…” she’s snapping her fingers, a look of realization comes over her face and she’s looking smug, “Yeona.”

“Oh fuck off.”

“Shut up for a second. Lennox and Yeona didn’t realize their mistake, even after there was giggling on the other side of the wall. Yeona moaned again, and that’s when the teacher on the other side had enough. One of my friends in the class at the time had sworn that they all thought it was teenage boys.

“But Miss whatever her name is, slams the door open and they’re caught red-fucking-handed. Butt naked–”

“Not butt naked!” Lennox is shouting, “Neither of us were naked!”

“Her shorts were pulled down to her thighs, Lennox. And your fingers were in unholy places. Maybe you weren’t butt naked, but she sure as hell was.” Trink moves her hair out of her face with her pinky nail, “Anyway, the teacher gave them both months of detention, and Lennox still has a lot of hours to make up. And it spread all around the school. And Yeona and Lennox are supposed to be grounded as hell.”

“I warned you.” Lennox says, “I’ll tell them about the school play.”

“Oh no, you won’t.” Trink is pushing herself to her feet, “Open your mouth and it’ll be full of sand.

You have a feeling that it’s not an empty threat, with how one hand that’s behind her back is full of sand, with a steady stream slipping between her fingers. Lennox doesn’t seem focused on her hands, more of the fact that he’s getting a chance to push her buttons.

“It was middle school, and she had bangs that were super fucking–”

His mouth is open wide, and she takes her chance. She wasn’t lying at all, she grabs a fistfull of Lennox’s brown hair and with the other hand, slaps the sand into his mouth. His eyes widen, and she lets go of him. He starts coughing, sand blowing out of his mouth and flying onto Allio.

“Dude!” Allio complains, face twisted.

Lennox is leaving the cornucopia, spitting out chunks of sand. Every time he bites down, you can hear crunching, which makes you cringe and gag. You can’t imagine the amount of bacteria in the sand, and how gross and dry it tastes.

“Bitch!” He coughs out, Trink looks satisfied and she’s dusting off her hands.

“Are we ready to go?” Allio asks.

You get to your feet, hoisting the backpack up and offering it to Trink. She takes it without a single complaint. After it’s around her shoulders, she picks up her sword and the rest of you follow suit, with the exception of Lennox. He’s now using water as mouthwash to clean out the sand.

“It’s stuck in my teeth.”

“Stop chewing.” Allio says.

“Thanks, genius.” 

After that, the trip into the woods is fairly quiet. As usual, it’s about an hour’s walk to the pond. On the way, you four are sharing stories. Allio, Lennox and Trink share the most, since they seem to have a lot and are more enthusiastic than you are. You ask questions to keep them talking, but that’s about it.

They talk mostly about their family. Trink is an only child, so she has only her parents to worry about. She claims that they’re not very strict because they’re extremely proud of her and how far she’s come. She says that they deserve a nice place to live, and can do more than just retire with the victor royalties.

“We’d be able to get my mom a nice studio, a different room for each of her hobbies, and my dad will finally have a bigger desk for when he comes home. I can already picture what my room will look like.” She says, bouncing on her toes.

A room for each of her parents’ hobbies? A whole office? You bite your tongue even though you want to tell her how lucky they’ve been. You’ve got a total of three bedrooms and one bathroom. One of the rooms is a graveyard, and the other two are shared between two people.

You wouldn’t necessarily say it’s cramped, because you’re lucky that you have a room away from your brothers in the first place, but you still don’t have your own space. You’re sharing it with Alyssum, and the room is the size of that walk-in closet back in the Capitol. Even then, that closet was huge.

And it’s not like you can even afford that place, even with both of your brother’s working overtime most nights. In all honesty, you remember the nights after you put Alyssum to bed, and you three gathered at the table to talk about the possibility of either selling the house to downgrade, or to sell your dead parent’s expensive jewelry that took them years to collect.

Most of them being heirlooms, others being gifted to them. All of them holding some sort of sentimental value that sparked the question of whether or not it would be morally right. In the end, you’ve never sold anything but you’ve cut it close plenty of times. 

If you were to win, you’d get your own room, with brand new clothes and Alyssum would get all sorts of developmental toys. Reed and Mox would finally get their own rooms, which they’ve never had in their lives. Even before you were born and the third bedroom was empty, they had no choice but to share a room.

You’ll have a secure place to live, you wouldn’t have to worry about rent anymore, you’d always have good food on the table, and would be able to afford the expensive things that Allio, Trink and Lennox can already get without the victor royalties. You bet that they’ve never had to go hungry some nights.

The conversation is sour on your part, and you slowly stop asking questions and instead find a particular interest in the sleeve of your jacket. They don’t seem to notice, continuously trading stories between each other. In what feels like forever, you’ve finally reached the pond and you’re loading up on water.

It’s a brief moment there, none of you need to stop yet. The sun is about to be in the middle of the sky, it’s still well before noon. You pick your things back up, and take the backpack from Trink, agreeing on trading it every other hour. After that, you’re right back to walking.

You’re all basically on the same path you took during the first day to get to where you’d stayed the night at. Had you all kept moving, you’re sure that Eytelle would still be alive and you’d be more used to the woods. Now, you’re not, and you’re beginning to see how many obstacles are poised throughout the trees.

The greenery looks suspicious, so you keep away from any leaves that vaguely remind you of poison ivy. You don’t think that the gamemakers would put something like that out here, especially not in what’s supposed to be a tropical-esk island. The cliffs that the pond was semi-hidden in, eventually dies out to a hill.

The only real cliff on this island is the big one that soars above all the trees, and can be seen from anywhere on the island. You wonder what’s on the other side of them, will it be ground or water? And what sick twist will be laying at the bottom? It could be a number of things, and all you hope is that you don’t get caught in it.

Unfortunately, the conversation doesn’t stay on them. Trink notices that you haven’t offered up any sort of information, and it immediately because of a blizzard of questions that you can hardly keep up with.

“What’s it like in Four?” Lennox asks.

“Busy.” you say, “And huge. My prep team said that we smell like fish, sweat and salt water, if that helps any.”

“What’s your family like?” Trink asks.

Yes, back to the family topic. Trink is an only child, Lennox has a younger brother, and Allio has a big family, similar to yours. He has an older sister and three younger brothers. And he even offered up information about Eytelle too, she has a younger brother and sister.

“Two older brothers and a younger sister.” you say, you feel vulnerable. Giving out information like this gives them a chance to use it against you somehow.

“Parents?” Allio asks.

You grit your teeth, “Dead.”

You’ve got their attention now, especially Allio. You know the question is coming before it even forms on his tongue, “How?”

He’s sadistic. Out of the four of you, you think that you’re the most dangerous kill-wise, but Allio is… demented. Asking questions on how people died and what it looked like. He might not have killed anyone, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t just sit around and watch and enjoyed it.

“Childbirth and drowning.”

“I thought you guys were supposed to be good swimmers.” Allio remarks, there’s a smug look on his face. Trink and Lennox are beginning to look uncomfortable.

“We are.” you look at him, pressing your lips together. “And a good example of that is the girl from Twelve.” the look on his face is fading. That’s right, you might have convinced them that you didn’t kill her, but you swam out of the depths of the pond and you’d do it again, “If you don’t believe me, we can go back to the pond and test the theory.”

There’s no answer.

“That’s what I thought.” you snap, looking back down at your sword.

You wonder if they’d be upset if you made a jump at Allio. He’s getting on everyone’s nerves, not just yours. This morning might have been full of high spirits, but he nearly killed Lennox just because Lennox tried to wake him up. There’s tension building, and it’s like a rubber band. It’s going to snap right back in your faces if you don’t stop it in time.

Hmm.

“Got any high school stories?” Trink finally asks, and you take the opportunity to launch into a story that lasts around thirty minutes. 

Allio is quiet, stone-faced and sour looking. But the other two are in a light mood and laugh along at the right times and ask questions to keep it going. By the time you’ve finished the story, they’re begging for another. Lennox says that it’s funny, but not nearly as good as the Trink and the play story.

This time, Trink doesn’t shut it down because ‘he’s a fucking moron, might as well let him explain it badly’. And Lennox really does try his best to explain everything, but what’s funnier is watching and listening to Trink mock him and make faces. She’ll ‘uh huh’ and ‘right’ at the perfect moments, deadpanning and rolling her eyes.

By the time the sun is well, well past noon, Allio seems to be lightening up again. Trink begins to complain that her feet hurt, and it’s reasonable since you’ve all been walking for hours. You take a break at some tree beneath the shade, trink a minimal amount of water and hope that there will be another pond or stream somewhere close.

As soon as your feet stop aching, you’re back on your feet for a brief moment of time. It’s so short because of how fast the sun is setting. You all agree that it has to be the gamemakers, and decide to try and find a place to stay for the night. It’s just meaningless wandering for a while, until Trink spots something through the trees.

“Is that a fucking house?” Lennox asks, and then the four of you are running up to it.

Without a warning, he’s kicking down the door, and you’re all squinting into the shack. There’s no one inside, and it doesn’t even look like anyone has stayed here either. It’s a good sign, you don’t have to sit outside for the night. The moment that you’re all shutting the door, and Lennox is sitting in front of it to keep it shut, you’re growing tired.

So, quickly you eat the squirrel and a few crackers with the others. There had been no deaths today, so there’s no recap to worry about, and you’re all in the clear to sleep. You’re sure that you won’t need your jacket to sleep tonight, but there’s wind whistling through the cracks in the window pane, and you decide that you’d rather be hot than cold.

You use your arm as a pillow, hand on your knife at all times. The moment you begin to drift off, you can hear the light patter on rain on the wooden roof. Tomorrow will be wet, and you’re glad that you didn’t leave the jacket at the cornucopia after all. And because the noise of the rain is so mesmerizing, you’re falling asleep quickly.

Again, in the morning, it’s clear that Allio isn’t a morning person. Lennox had switched out in the middle of the night with him, and he clearly wasn’t happy about it. You can still hear the howl of the wind, which makes you all hesitate and debate on whether or not you should go out there.

You have no problem with the wind and rain, it’s whether or not it’s a tropical storm that has you concerned. You’ve been through plenty of rain storms back home, in fact, you think you might thrive in the rain. And you’re sure that Finnick is beginning to realize this too.

But despite this, the others decide to stay inside the shack. Lennox remarks that it’s a good thing none of you had actually stayed at the cornucopia, otherwise you’d be drenched and freezing. So, Lennox and Allio go right back to sleep and you’re left to stay awake with Trink.

“How long do you think that the storm will last?” she asks, picking at the wooden floorboards.

You look at the window. It’s dirty on the inside, already making it hard to see through, but with the rain constantly pounding on the other side, it makes it that much harder. You tilt your head, purse your lips as you try to think. The sky doesn’t look that dark from as much as you can tell, but that doesn’t really mean anything.

And you’re on an island, and the rain might be gamemaker-engineered. Could mean a number of things. It could last for days, and at that point, you’d all be flushed out and be shit out of luck when it comes to hunting animals and fishing, just fueling starvation. But on the other hand, it could all be some scheme for a fight.

“Depends on the circumstances.” you close your eyes, leaning your head up against the wall, “A load of things could be going on out there. I’d say that if it’s the gamemakers that’s doing this, it’ll hopefully be done in a day or two. Which just means that we should ration out the rabbit, crackers and other stuff carefully.”

“I’ll keep that in mind when I’m eating.” she says, you open your eyes to see she’s got a small, teasing smile on her face.

The two of you fall into silence, and eventually you’re being dragged under again. You’re not all that surprised, sleeping in the sand might feel like a perfect bed, with how you shaped the sand. But it’s not exactly comfortable, and you’d much rather have something like the wooden floor boards. Even if they’re hard.

You’re tired. There’s rain on the house, and you can make the whistling of the wind sound like a song. Your last thought before you fall asleep is how you think that it’s a perfect time to be well-rested.

The next time you wake up, it’s to your boot being nudged. Your fingers fly across the floorboards and to your knife in the same instance that you open your eyes. It’s the others, the rabbit is displayed in front of them, clearly they’re ready to eat. You look at the window, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. The storm has definitely calmed down.

“Did I miss anything?” you ask, scooting towards them and sitting up.

“Don’t know. It was really loud out there for a while.” Allio says, you’re fairly surprised that he’s talking to you.

“It’s barely a drizzle out there. We’re going to eat and then take a look into the sky to see if anyone’s died.” Trink says.

Of course, you slept the day away in the shack. You can’t be upset at it, and you have a feeling that tonight will be your turn to stand guard. You go ahead and help the others distribute most of the rabbit fairly, and when you’re still hungry, you eat a cracker and drink some water and insist that you won’t eat anymore.

Since you’re all well-rested, you all play some stupid game to pass the time. When Lennox starts yawning, they call it a night. You take the shift, and sit against where you had been sleeping before, which is on the far side of the room, away from the door. You listen as they all start to settle down, and their breathing becomes more spaced out.

And then you have the urge to pee, and manage to remember that you all were supposed to watch the sky. You tuck the knife into your belt and take your sword with you, zipping up the jacket to your chin and throwing the hood over your head. When you step out of the shack, you’re extremely quiet with how you shut the door, in order not to wake them.

It’s definitely not that late into the night, and it’s still raining lightly. You lean against the sword, staring through the tree leaves, into the sky. It’s a long silence, and you begin to believe that maybe you all had missed it after all. And then the Capitol symbol is appearing in the sky, and the anthem is starting. 

Finnick and Blaire are still alive, their faces don’t appear in the sky. But the girl from Six appears, and no one follows after her. Such a big storm for one little person? You hope the gamemakers don’t have some underlying plan going on.

You take care of your business, and slip right back into the shack undetected. After shutting the door and making sure that it won’t be coming loose, you take a seat in your space, and spend the rest of the night there. Sometime during the middle of the night, you’ve pulled out the rope that’s buried deep into the backpack, and spend mindless time tying it and untying it in various knots.

Trink is the first to wake when the sun rises, since the sun rays are landing on her face. You offer to switch spaces with her, but instead she says that she’ll take the small amount of time before the others awake. Now, it’s your turn to take a small nap. It doesn’t last more than a couple of hours, which is fine. A power nap here and there won’t hurt.

When you’re all ready to go, you go right back into the woods. The grass and leaves on the ground are still slippery because of the rain, but there’s a comforting smell coming from the plants. There’s no complaints between you all, and for hours, it’s just silence between you all with the occasional chatter.

You’re all just mostly thirsty, wanting to find a pond or something with water. The deeper you wander into the trees, the more you realize that there’s going to be absolutely nothing. You can’t hear rushing water, and you’re too far away from the beach to go and drink salt water.

You don’t bother to break this news to the group, figuring that they’ve come to this conclusion, themselves. In the meantime, you continue to drink your water in measured time and hope that this isn’t making it worse on you. Allio says that you all should have set out some tarp and collected rain water, but it was quickly dismissed by Trink.

The water likely wouldn’t have been good to drink, and the idea really went to shit when he said that you could’ve used whatever came off the roof of the shack. Allio’s back in a sour mood after that, muttering, “Why am I always the bad guy?”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to tell him that he’s typically the one to start fights between you all. And just because someone cancels out his idea, doesn’t mean that it was a direct attack to him. You have a feeling that he gets the most attention back home, which is a hard transition.

It’s about another hour of wandering before it begins to dawn on you all for real. The arena has become hotter, the sun beats down on your backs, and at this point sitting in the shade is doing nothing. Lennox tells you that he’s out of water, and after a very small sip of yours, you give him the rest.

And then it’s done for Trink and Allio. 

“How far back to the shack?” you ask, wiping the sweat from your forehead. You almost wish that you could take off the shirt and get away with it, but there’s no doubt that your brother’s back home will be losing their shit.

Then again, it’s for survival. You don’t want to drop in some useless heap on the ground because of heat stroke. Honestly, you’ve always hated the heat. Spring time is the best in District Four, because it’s not too hot and it’s not too cold, either. You begin to lose interest during the summer because that’s when you begin to sweat more, and the house feels awful to sit inside of.

No air conditioning, which makes for days at the beach to try and cool yourself off, only then do you get sunburns and have to spend the days inside, anyway. It’s miserable, trying to get away from the heat. When you were a kid, your mother used to give you and your brothers a fair chunk of change to go down to the ice cream parlor on heatwave days. You’d get to buy ice cream in exchange for a cold, air conditioned building. And Caspian and Calandra would always join you three.

And you wouldn’t be kicked out for hours, when the sun would finally be setting. Thank the owners, and then you’re all going back to the house. By that time, mom would have dinner ready and it would always be something naturally cold to ease the hot feeling you’d all have.

It’s the same thing for winter time, except with cold instead of the heat.

“Hours.” Lennox says, Trink is fanning herself with some large plant leaves, and it doesn’t look like it’s helping much.

Allio is fairly unbothered, he’s got this smug look on his face, “It’s not even that hot.”

“Shut up.” Lennox snaps, “It’s at least a hundred degrees in here.”

“And I’ve felt worse.”

Trink glares at him, “Shut up.”

You lean your head back against the tree, eyes closed. In no way are you tired, there’s just a pounding headache going on in your head. Your mouth is dry, and this is just the beginning of the three day process of dehydration.

Someone breathes in like they’re getting ready to talk, but they’re cut off by a chiming. Your eyes open, you lean forward to look out to see where it’s coming from. Lennox is on his feet, arms outstretched towards the gift from sponsors. The gift is fairly big, and you recognize it as a feast almost immediately.

Lennox sets it down in the middle of you all, popping open the lid. And immediately, you can smell all the delicious food inside, none of them actually have steam coming up. Cold food. And the bottles of water that have condensation running down them.

“Here.” Lennox passes off a piece of paper to you, “Read it.”

He begins to divide the food evenly, and it looks like cold cut sandwiches and water. You can’t see what’s under them just yet, but you know there’s more. There’s always several layers to a feast sponsor gift like this. And it really would be stupid to eat it all at once, and you think they know that too.

You look down at the paper, reading over it the first time around. This was a conjoined gift, from multiple mentors and sponsors, “‘A gift from us to you. Happy Hunger Games, signed Gloss, Enobaria and Anchor’.” You lay the paper aside, you recognize all three of the names.

It’s funny, since they’re all technically in order of each other. Anchor won before Enobaria, and Gloss won the year after Enobaria. And then after Gloss would be Cashmere, his own sister. This year will be the decider of whether or not it’ll be another District One or Two win, or a Four.

“Thank you.” you say, and the other’s chime in as well.

Trink and Lennox work together to split two sandwiches in half to make four. And then pawn them off to you and Allio. You’re free to take a cold water bottle for yourself, beneath the sandwiches you can see all sorts of fruits and vegetables that are undoubtedly fresh.

Obviously your mentors were trying to keep the foods as cold as possible to try and combat the heat. You can appreciate that, you feel like Anchor and Enobaria have the best idea of what it’s like to exist in heat. You sip on your water every now and then, not wanting to drink it all up. In no time, the sandwich is gone, though.

Even with all the nice food and cold water, the arena is still hot. You agree to give yourselves some more time before getting up and going. Lennox shuts the lid on the gift before Allio can reach over and grab more, and passes it off to you and Trink to put in your backpack because he thinks you guys have the most room.

You share a look with Trink, because that’s obviously not the reason. You go ahead and find space for it in your backpack anyway. Wanting to keep the water from your water bottle cold, you dump the remaining water into the metal thermos in hopes that it’ll work. The others think that it’s smart, and do the same thing.

With no garbage can around, you throw your water bottle at Lennox as a joke. He gives you a dangerous look before throwing his right back at you. It doesn’t hurt much, especially when it’s the bottom that hits your forehead. As you go through this, Trink says that she can juggle, and suddenly you’re giving up your bottles to watch her try.

It’s not the best, but she wasn’t much of a liar.

“If circuses still existed, you’d be the perfect act.” Allio says.

You can see the anger that flashes through Trink’s eyes. Before Lennox can lean over and restrain her, she’s launched across the picnic that you’ve set up, hands wrapped around Allio’s throat. You and Lennox get to your feet in a scramble, not liking the fight that’s going on.

Grabbing a hold of Trink’s shoulder, you place your foot on Allio’s chest to keep him down while you yank her off. With the help of Lennox, the two of you get Trink off of him.

“Get the fuck off of me!” Allio huffs, “Fucking bitch.”

He pushes your leg off of him, which causes you to stumble and fall into the grass. Trink is brushing the dirt off of her jeans, but she’s glaring at Allio, “Try me.”

“I did.”

She stands up again, and Lennox is placing himself between her and Allio, “Take a breather, please.”

“Beat the fuck out of him for me.” she snaps, and then swipes her sword on her way out.

It’s just you, Lennox and Allio still beneath the shade. Once again, you get to your feet, feeling a little pissed off yourself. He had no right to push you like that, not after you basically saved his life with Lennox. He should be thanking you, but instead his face is red and he looks like he’s going to attack one of you.

“Chill out.” Lennox says, “Seriously.”

“It was a fucking joke. Guess the bitch doesn’t know how to take one.”

“Or you don’t know how to read a room.” you suggest.

His eyes turn to you, “Yeah, I don’t know how to read a room. Fuck off, you’re fifteen, you have no idea what you’re doing. You’re not even going to win.”

“Watch your fucking mouth. You’ve got two people that don’t like you. If I were you, I’d start walking.”

Allio is puffing up, Lennox slaps his hand on Allio’s chest, keeping him from going at you, “Go back to the cornucopia or chill out.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, you sweep up the backpack and pull it over your shoulders. Lennox does the same with the other backpack, and after getting your weapons, you’re alright back to walking. Lennox says that you guys should take a wide circle and go back to the cornucopia, since it’s clear that the forest is dense and you haven’t come across anyone so far.

You walk beside Trink, who’s on the far left, and Lennox walks with Allio, who’s on the other side. 

“He’s getting on my nerves.” she mutters.

“Mine too.”

She looks at you, “What did Lennox say to him after I left?”

“Told him to chill out, and I said a few things too. He wasn’t very happy.”

“I bet not. Hopefully that’s put him into his place.” Trink picks at her nails. Which is still covered in nail polish, just like yours.

Your nails have seen better days. There’s dirt beneath them, the polish is chipped in the corners. You can only imagine what they’ll look like in a few days. Better or worse? You’re just lucky there isn’t dried blood beneath them.

The heat begins to lessen up by the time the sun is setting. It still feels like it’s eighty degrees though, and you still slowly drink your water. Somehow, you all manage to circle back to the shack, which is still incredibly empty.

None of you are really hungry tonight, still mulling over what had happened earlier in the day. Allio tries to take the night shift, but the answer from all three of you is no. Lennox says that since he’s the one that’s most indifferent to the situation–Trink rolls her eyes–he’ll watch over all of you.

There is no rain on the shack tonight, instead the wind howls and acts like it’s going to break the wooden structure down. It makes you feel like you’re all on the verge of another storm, but you can’t see the gamemakers doing that so soon. It’s obvious that the rain and the heat was their making. They’re trying to break you guys.

It worked, for the most part. The four of you didn’t pass out from heatstroke, obviously but it did raise the irritation. You figured that would happen anyway, you’re sure that the fact that you haven’t run across anyone over the course of these days, haven’t helped at all. 

Tonight, you don’t wear the jacket when you go to bed. You keep the backpack guarded behind you, and fall asleep with one arm through the hoop, and the other with a knife clutched in your hand.

When you wake, you figure out pretty quickly that you’re the first. Lennox definitely fell asleep at some time last night. You sit up, a quiet yawn coming from you, stretching your arms and setting down the knife. Your arm is still hooked around the backpack strap, and when you finally stretch the joint, it’s stiff.

You know almost immediately that you have to pee, but take the task of checking on the backpack first. You figure that it’s going to be fine, because there’s no reason for it not to be. But you find it unzipped, and when you pull back the fabric in a panic, the entire feast of food is missing.

The metal pot is gone, and so is the spare knife that you brought just in case you lost the first. And as far as you remember, none of the others brought a knife, and they know that you brought the spare. There’s only one person who’s been going at everyone lately, too.

You turn, eyes glared at Allio, who’s got his back to you and is still sleeping. You lean over, swiping his half-full water bottle and throwing it at the back of his head. He gasps, hand flying to the back of his head, “What the fuck?”

Lennox’s eyebrows draw in, awake now. He stretches his arms out in front of him and opens his eyes. Trink has turned over halfway, squinting and tired looking. Allio has sat up, and a staring contest has started between you two.

“That’s what I should be asking. Where the fuck is the food?”

That’s got everyone waking up.

“What the hell do you mean?” Lennox asks.

“The food is missing, all of it.” You pull the backpack around, and throw it so that everything spills out, making an incredible amount of noise and getting your point across, “Where is it?”

“Does it look like I have it?” Allio snaps.

Trink’s awake, she’s sitting up and reaching for the backpack that the boys were supposed to be carrying. Lennox passes it over to her, and she unzips and begins to go through it.

“You probably ate it all.”

“We don’t know that.” Lennox says, but he’s on the fence, you can tell with how his eyes keep shifting to Allio.

Trink clicks her tongue, and then slowly pulls out a container of grapes. All eyes are then turned on Allio, who’s turning a deep shade of red, “You planted that on me.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?”

“You said it yourself yesterday! Don’t play stupid.”

You lean forward, “With that logic, Trink should be suspect too, but she has no reason to steal. You do, filthy ass pig.”

His nostrils flare, “Listen–”

“No! You listen!” you grab the container of grapes, hurling it at Allio, “After the shit you’ve pulled in the last twenty-four hours, I have a good reason to believe this. And the fact that one of my knives is missing is weird too. And by the way, I’ve been asleep all night, I have no fucking clue about you. 

“Honestly, you could have gotten up after Lennox fell asleep to rummage through the bag, eat all the fucking food and save the grapes for later.”

“One of your knives is missing?” Trink asks.

“Yeah, I brought a second one in case I lost the first. You guys know that.”

Lennox is nodding, face hard as he turns to Allio, “Empty out your pockets.”

“You can’t be serious!”

Trink’s zipping up the boy’s backpack, “Got something to hide? If you don’t have it, you shouldn’t be getting defensive.”

Allio sends a nasty glare your way, standing up from where he was sleeping only minutes ago. He plunges his hands into his pockets and turns them inside out, all of them. Even his jacket, which he turns the hood upside down for.

“She’s accusing me and doesn’t even have proof.” he snarls.

“The grapes aren’t good enough proof?” you ask.

He motions to Lennox, “He could have placed them in the backpack, did you think of that?”

“Except I didn’t.”

“You were up all night last night watching the door, you’re telling me you didn’t get a bit hungry?” Allio’s squinting at him.

Lennox moves the jacket that’s laying over his lap, revealing a packet of crackers that he had grabbed for himself. You’ve watched him go through it over the course of these days. And Allio, seeing the packet, turns an even darker shade.

“This is dog shit!” he finally yells, grabbing his sword.

You three almost have the same reaction, fingers reaching for your weapons. But Allio leaves the shack, slamming the door hard enough to make the building shudder. It leaves you all in silence, and it’s not long before Lennox is looking at you.

“Did you wake up at all last night?”

“No.” you shake your head, “I woke up with the strap still around my arm, and my knife near my other hand. If you could take a guess, what time did you fall asleep last night?”

“Early morning.” He’s shrugging, shaking his head lightly too, “the sky was beginning to lighten up, but there wasn’t a sunrise.”

“Did he look awake?” Trink asks.

“No, you all were out cold.”

You press your lips together, gathering all of the contents of the backpack, back inside, “What if someone came in last night?”

It’s a cold silence this time, neither of them speak a word and you’re fairly sure that they stop breathing too.

“Why would someone sneak in and not kill us?” Trink asks.

“The door creaks too.” Lennox says.

You zip up the bag, and then look at them, “The door doesn’t creak if you’re careful with it. The night of the storm, I got up to pee and the door didn’t make a sound when I opened it or closed it.”

Trink’s looking at Lennox, “And a cannon would go off, wouldn’t it?”

Lennox’s nodding, thinking. 

Eventually, Allio comes back to the shack, and by then you’ve got all the food piled up. You divide it again, disappointed that you won’t be having half a sandwich again today. But it’s better that you don’t, you think. Once you’re done eating, you pack up your stuff and just leave the garbage in the corner of the room.

It’s back on track to the cornucopia. In just a few hours, you’re replenishing your water at the pond. Lennox suggests hunting as much as you all can on the way back to the cornucopia, which means splitting up. But Trink says that there hasn’t been a single animal in the few hours it took you to get there.

However, you can see movement in the pond.

“Leave a backpack with me, I’ll just sit here and fish.” You hold out your hand for the one that Trink has. With no problem, she swings it off and hands it over.

“Don’t want company?” Allio asks.

You look at Allio, “Do you want to eat tonight or not?” you snap.

“Let’s go.” Lennox pushes Allio slightly to get him moving.

“See you in a few hours.” Trink says, “Be safe.”

“You guys too.” you wave, and then wait for them to leave completely. 

After that, you place the backpack firmly next to you, and then get up to grab the fishing pole from the bush. Once you sit back down, you mess with it to get it to be comfortable in your hands again. You lay out a sheet of plastic, and then grab out your water bottle to use it as the reel. 

It’s just a waiting game now.


	9. Chapter 9

Today marks the eighth day of the Hunger Games, you think. If you’ve been keeping track of it correctly, it’s been a week, and today is the eighth day. You’d like to say that the time has flown, but the days feel like they drag on forever. Especially with how hot it’s been during the day. It feels like you’re living through lifetimes in the span of a couple of days.

You should probably clarify that today is the eighth day of the games for you guys. Time typically moves differently inside of the arena, and it’s because the gamemakers are always trying to make something happen. Whether that be fights, or just plain death, it’s all dependent on the circumstances.

All you know is that your brothers and family friends have watched you survive in here, and come close to death three times now. The first one being Horace, the second being the mutts, and the third being the boy from Twelve. Although, you don’t think he counts much, holding you underwater was his own death wish.

Reed and Mox are probably beginning to gain hope on the situation. If you’ve survived an entire week, and managed to form a schedule of sorts, then you should be on track to go home. All you have to do is not fuck up between now and then. Don’t pick too many fights, drink plenty of water and eat more than enough food.

Keep your allies close but your enemies closer.

This morning was eerie. Allio didn’t say a word, mostly made grunting noises when Lennox suggested that him and Allio go out to try and hunt. It’s been three days since the storm, so the animals should be appearing back in the woods, but there’s no promises. If they come back with nothing, you’re going to be sent out to the pond.

As soon as the boys left, you and Trink had a quick conversation about how weird it was. You suggested the fact that he’s probably still mad at you three for yesterday, and she agreed. As soon as it was over, you and her started going through boxes to find any stray food.

She ended up finding one full of food. The cornucopia is normally plentiful with all sorts of stuff, so you weren’t surprised that she found it so quickly. The next thing to do was gather all the garbage and make a trash can of sorts. Already, you’ve thrown out wrappers and old bones.

It isn’t until you’re throwing out a fish’s skeleton, when you realize that it might be possible to make a soup out of these. Like chicken and beef broth, but instead with bones. Then you seem to remember that you never watched your brothers when they made it. You were always either out of the house or doing something in your room.

And the others don’t mind the fish–you could care less about eating it every night–but if you continue to make them eat it, or anything that has to do with it, they’re going to riot. It wouldn’t hurt to at least propose it, so you make note and toss the skeleton into the box.

“Hey, you know what I just thought of?” Trink is sitting in the sand, passing over trash when she finds it.

“What?” you ask, grabbing another handful and throwing it into the box. It looks like that’s the last of it. 

You shut the lid on the box, and leave it unlocked, hoping that’ll be a good enough signal to you later that it’s the trash box. If not, the placement of where it is should be good enough for your memory.

“Snares.” she says, “We make snares and set them up in the woods, just so we don’t have to be out there hunting the entire time.”

You nod distantly, thinking it over. It’s not a bad idea. You could catch things overnight and go to grab the animals in the morning, and just reset it, you think. You’ve never had to do something like that before, so it’s more or less a toss up. 

“Do you know how to make one?” you ask.

She’s shaking her head, face turning a light shade of red, “No, I was hoping you’d know.”

And your eyebrows are drawing in, “Why?”

“You and Finnick were at the snare station during the training days, remember?”

For a moment, you’re about to deny it all, not being able to recall a single moment like that. It hits you, after that. Sitting at the snare section with the incredibly impressed expert, and how you taught Finnick knots when he asked. It really does feel like years ago, when it was literally two weeks ago.

And the more it comes back to you, the more you seem to realize that you never actually learned any snares. You were more focused on trying to figure out new ways to tie knots, hoping that whatever the expert tried to teach you, you already knew and it would come back to you in that moment.

You fucked up, majorly. You spent an hour or so at that station without spending a single second of actually learning how to tie a snare. A skill that would now help to keep you all from starving. You grit your teeth, because who’s the one person that spent more time at that station after his first alliance was gone? Finnick.

You look over at Trink, shaking your head before the words form on your tongue. She seems to understand, maybe thinking that you don’t remember. Or maybe the change of expression told her that you don’t know how to tie snares at all.

“It’s no big deal.” she says, “I’m looking forward to fish for dinner, anyway. Even if it’s not the greatest, we can rely on it, hopefully.”

“Yeah.” you agree.

It’s only a few minutes later when the boys come back, absolutely nothing in their hands. Lennox tries to offer an apology, but you figured that this would happen. The gamemakers are keeping the animals from supplying the woods, what’s new? After all the shit they’ve thrown your way recently, it’s only customary.

You pack up your things, collect the empty water bottles, and leave for the pond. On the way, you hum a fisherman’s tune and try to recall the actual words to it. There’s a ton of variations to them, and you remember bits and pieces from the original and all the remakes. By the time you reach the pond, you’ve made a frankenstein version of the song.

You grab the fishing pole and then unpack your things, laying it all out. First, you get the water and purify it. You line the canteens up to make sure that they aren’t taking up a huge amount of room inside of the backpack. After that, you dig through the dirt to find a worm, making the situation beneath your nails worse.

At this point, you’re sure that it’s just stained that dark brown color. There’s really no other way to explain it. There’s a baby blue on the top, and a dark brown beneath the bottom. Picking at it has done nothing but aggravate you. So, you sit in tired silence and wait for the fish to bite.

You can imagine that your brothers are picking out everything that you’re doing wrong. Cringing when you choose to do one thing over the other, they’ve probably already found out ways to make your fishing pole better, and are just waiting for you to realize it too. You’ve already considered crackers and stuff like that, but it’ll eventually break off in the water, and you’ll just waste the food.

You wish that you were able to hear them and what they have to say. Beg them for advice on what to do. Allio is just becoming a bigger problem, the more that time goes on. The food is becoming more scarce, it’s hot here during the day and last night the weather plunged terribly, enough to make you grab out a second jacket from a box.

All you want is to survive, and it keeps getting harder the more that the days go on. You wish that the gamemakers weren’t allowed to interfere, and just had to watch from the sidelines. Of course, the games wouldn’t be nearly as interesting but manipulating the weather is unfair.

You pull out the first fish, and go right back in for a second. This one seems to bite only minutes later, faster than the first. You go to place the second fish down, only to find that the first is missing, with no sight of it around you. Your eyes barely manage to catch a quick movement in the bushes, and the knife is in and out of your hand in a flash.

“Shit!” a voice hisses, you jump to your feet, fingers fumbling for the sword to catch the thief before they have a chance to run.

You have the sword raised, prepared for the other tribute to jump at you. And you just barely peer around the bushes, about to swing and end it. But you catch yourself mid-air once you see who it is. His dark, curly hair is so familiar and it catches you off guard almost immediately.

He’s got a knife clutched in his hands, eyes wide and staring up at you. There actually seems to be some wince on his face, like he was fully prepared to accept his fate with the sword. Leave it to him not to even think of defending himself. 

“Blaire?” you ask, eyebrows drawing together as you survey the area around him.

You’re looking for Finnick and Thyme, they have to be around here somewhere, right? They’re supposed to be grouped up together, so it would only make sense for them to be traveling together. Then again, you’re with the careers and you came down here by yourself. On the other hand, you wanted it that way. 

You find no one around him. Maybe Blaire volunteered to go alone, like you? But that doesn’t make sense, Finnick typically travels with other people, no matter the weather or what they wish. You remember all the times in the rain, and how he’d walk his friends, girls and guys, home after school. Especially the ones that were looking upset.

One more look at Blaire, and you can see that his cheeks have sunken in, no longer as chubby as they were during the week in the Capitol. He’s been starving, and traveling down to look at his hands, it makes sense why he was stealing the fish. He’s hungry.

“Where’s Finnick?” you ask, looking back at him. 

A fish in one hand, and a knife in the other. The longer you stare at the knife, the more you recognize it. Again, you’re looking at his face, and the guilty expression seems to set in. There’s only one knife that looks like it, and it’s the exact design of the one that had been stolen out of your backpack.

Good news, you found the thief that took the entirety of the feast from your backpack in the shack. It explains the disappearance of the food and the knife. Bad news, you accused Allio when it had nothing to do with him, which means that there is undoubtedly a bounty placed on your head, and he’s probably explaining it to them right now. It still doesn’t explain the grapes.

A part of you is angry, because Blaire has caused this riff in the alliance whether he knows it or not. And it’ll be nearly impossible to repair without explaining to them how you know that it wasn’t Allio. It would give up Blaire’s position, and how you didn’t kill him on sight. Even worse if he doesn’t shut up in the sky.

On the other hand, you’re fairly impressed. He managed to get passed four sleeping career tributes, steal the food and leave without making a single sound. The timing and execution is amazing, and you know for a fact that you wouldn’t be able to pull off something like that.

Unfortunately, his luck has run out.

Blaire’s shaking his head, the wince from his face fading as you lower your sword. For now, you have absolutely no intention of killing him. He’s too kind, and you know that the stealing was for his own survival. Even if you’re in the Hunger Games, you can appreciate it. 

“I don’t know.” he says, you offer your hand out to him, but since his hands are full, he can’t grab it. Your arm falls back to your side.

“What do you mean you don’t know? You haven’t seen him at all? You’re supposed to be with Finnick and Thyme. Don’t you have an idea of where they are?”

He gets to his feet, you can see the damage you did to his leg, now. It’s a nick, enough to surprise him and make him think that you did some serious damage. You find your little knife a few feet away. You pick it up, and await his answer.

“I haven’t seen them at all since the first day. We all split up, I didn’t even know that Verda was going to the cornucopia.” Blaire frowns, “She died in the bloodbath, right?”

You nod quietly, bringing him over to where you had been sitting before by the pond. You throw the hook back into the water, “Yeah, it was a quick death, though. I’m pretty sure that it wasn’t any of us that had done it. Definitely wasn’t me.”

“You’re still with the careers?”

“Yeah.” you look over to him, “What have you been doing this whole time? Other than stealing from us.” 

His face flushes, and he opens his mouth and then closes it. He shakes his head, eyes closed and then he looks down to the dirt, “I was hungry.”

“You left nothing.”

“Can you blame me? You guys looked well off, I didn’t see a harm in it at all. And I didn’t leave nothing, I left the crackers and figured that would be good enough. That and the water.” Blaire’s still got a grip on the fish, you have a feeling that you won’t be getting it back.

You pull up another fish, place it on the plastic, and then go right back in again, “We’ve been sharing food. One measly rabbit for four people, it’s not exactly the best. Doesn’t sit right with them.”

He hums, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. Take the fish, and a thing of water.” you reach into the bag, pulling out the water bottle you’d used, it’s full of water, “Should be clean.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah. Clean out the cut on your thigh to keep it from being infected.”

You can’t believe that Blaire doesn’t know where they are. So much for a second-hand alliance, none of them are together. Verda’s dead, Blaire is wandering the woods alone, starving. And who knows what’s happened to Finnick and Thyme? It could very well be Blaire’s situation but better or worse, depending on where they are.

You’re so guilty. This isn’t directly your fault, because Finnick had his own alliance so he should have been able to find all of them just fine. But had you… you’re the older tribute, you were supposed to be watching over him. Yet, he’s off somewhere, maybe alone, maybe starving and dehydrated.

Finnick might have broken the agreement on the alliance with the careers, but he’s your friend. Finnick and you have known each other for years. Had you just spent time changing his mind and reassuring him, he might be with you now. You were just so mad that he had turned his back on something so great.

There’s no way of knowing now, if you two could have survived out here. Knowing him, he would’ve wanted to stay away from the cornucopia entirely. Which just means going into the woods with absolutely nothing and banking on sponsors. You know how to do things like start fires, and hunt without all the good stuff, but it just helps.

Then again, you did warn Finnick. You told him that going about this alone or without the careers would be harder. There’s not as many people watching your back. And of course, at some point they’re going to be unreliable and dangerous. But you’ve survived this far, and you’ve only just come across problems.

As far as you know, the games are halfway over. There’s eleven dead, and it’s been a steady flow. In eight more days, the games could be over and you could be going home. 

Blaire dips his hand into the water, pulling out a handful of water as he dumps it onto his thigh. His face twists, a hiss coming from his lips. You feel sorry for him, it has to hurt and it’s going to hinder his walking. But it’s what he gets. It’s justice, in your mind.

Doesn’t mean you can’t help him out somewhat. You and Blaire might not have talked to each other for long, but you don’t feel uncomfortable around him. And he seems to be pretty relaxed, too. You wonder if he sees you as a friend directly, or a friend of a friend.

Sticking the fishing pole between your calf and your thigh, you dig through the backpack for the first-aid. You pull it out, and toss it to him, hoping that he knows what he’s doing, and won’t have to ask you for advice. For a moment, you can see him staring out of your peripheral, and then he takes it.

“I really am sorry, (Y/n).”

“It’s fine.” you mutter.

Blaire doesn’t say anything else for a while. He washes out the blood, waits for his calf to dry, and then places a bandage on top of it. When he’s done, he carefully shuts the first aid and holds it out for you. You take it, tuck it back into its spot, and pull up the next fish that comes around.

Three should be good enough. You wrap it all up in the plastic once the newest one is done squirming, and then place the package into the backpack, right next to the water. 

Blaire’s watching you closely again. Once you’ve zipped up the bag, you look at him, “Good luck.”

“Won’t you be down here tomorrow?”

“Not if we get something from the woods.”

Blaire looks down to the fish in his hands, “It’s been quiet.”

“We know.” you get up, placing the knife back into its spot on your belt, and then the sword. You throw the fishing pole into the bushes and then turn to look at Blaire, “If I have time, I’ll leave something for you.”

“Thank you.”

“Find a place to stay, Blaire.” you tell him, starting your way back to the cornucopia.

The walk is quiet, Blaire doesn’t follow. You manage to get back before sundown, and your allies have already got a fire started. You all get rid of the scales on the fish, then Lennox gets to cooking.

Allio still says nothing, not even when he’s offered food or if you guys ask if he wants more. Eventually, he gets up without a word and goes to take a walk, leaving just the three of you in the cornucopia. A part of you wants to tell them that you saw Blaire down at the pond, but figure that won’t go over well.

You obviously didn’t kill him, and explaining what happened with the food won’t be the best, either. Even if they were to get on your side, you’re sure that suspicions would start to rise. Unless you lied and said that you tried to kill Blaire and he got away. It would explain why he didn’t die immediately but then it would be a waiting game, and wishing death on him.

And coming clean to Allio, he’ll probably find a way to spin it on you. The two of you have made your distaste for each other clear, and Trink is the same way. The only semi-neutral person in this group anymore is Lennox. And you’re sure that’ll only be a matter of time before he’s turned again Allio, especially with the attitude that he has.

Allio has just come back from the woods, a dead rabbit in his hands and a victorious look on his face, when a cannon blasts. The look almost disappears, changing to confusion. But then he hands off the rabbit to Lennox, and takes a seat in his regular spot.

“Nice catch.” Trink murmurs, but it’s clear you’re all still puzzled about the cannon.

It could be anyone except you guys. Blaire, Finnick, Thyme, you think Mac is still alive and both the tributes from Eight. There’s one more, you’re sure of it, but can’t seem to think of who it is. Six tributes, the possibilities are endless.

Allio opens his mouth, another cannon cuts him off. Two tributes. Two tributes are dead.

You press your lips together. Could be Blaire, could be Finnick and Thyme. Could be Mac and Blaire, or both of the Eight tributes if they were caught off guard. Endless, really. Until you get to see the sky and their faces tonight.

You hope you didn’t call their deaths, Blaire and Finnick. You have the worst type of luck with things like that, pointing out how they could happen and then it happening. It knocks two players out of the game, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t matter. 

“Two.” Allio says, as if you all don’t know.

Trink’s pulling her hair out of her face, “Probably a fight between three people.”

You nod along, and Lennox shrugs, “Mutual kill?”

“Isn’t that rare?” Trink asks, “Like I’ve never seen that ever.”

“Probably, I thought that there was one year when it happened, though.” Lennox begins to scoop up the scraps to throw into the trash box, but you’re flying across the small space to stop him, “What?”

“I can use this as bait.” your eyes scan the surrounding area, trying to find something to put it in. The spare canteen bottles come to mind.

After finding one, you pack as much as you can inside, and tuck the can somewhere cold. It’s not going to stay good for long, which means that you’ll have to use as much as possible, and then empty it out to start over. For now, it’ll have to work.

It’s agreed between you guys that it should be an early night. You wait for the death recap in the sky with them, finger crossed for whatever reason. You don’t want it to be anyone you know, but on the other hand, it would be easier. You wouldn’t have to kill them later on, if someone did all the work for you.

The music starts, the blue emblem of the Capitol appearing in the sky. You watch and wait patiently, heart beginning to beat in your chest. It isn’t that big of a deal, you take deep breaths to calm yourself down.

The first face in the sky is the girl from Eight, which immediately knocks out Blaire and Finnick. It leaves two tributes, though. The boy from Eight, and Thyme. Both tributes from Districts Nine and Ten are dead, both of them died during the bloodbath.

“It’s Thyme.” you say, and you really do call it. She’s next to appear in the sky, her district number below her face. 

You turn towards an empty space in the sand, writing out initials. T and L for Trink and Lennox, A for Allio, B for Blaire. One for yourself, F for Finnick, M for Mac, and a number eight for the boy from Eight. And then a question mark, because you still can’t recall where the last tribute is from.

Nine tributes left in the game, four of them being you guys, and five being everyone else. It could be two girls left in the game, and it could be three. Which leaves six or seven boys. 

You suddenly begin to worry about the alliance, one more death from one of the stray tributes, will mean an even score. You’ve seen this problem happen many times before, the career tributes all turning on each other. That or they split up, and you can’t see that happening without one of you dying.

One of you has to go to keep the alliance intact. You’ve been relying on it for this long, and you’re not about to get killed because of paranoia going on in the group. You quickly rub out the sand, and then look up to the others. There’s a sadistic smile on Allio’s face, and you know immediately. He has to go.

“We’re getting closer and closer.” Allio says, and then his eyes drag over to you.

You don’t like this. You’re the youngest, they’re all older than you by one or two years. To Allio, you’re small and weak, and possibly the most useless one still in the group. But as far as you know, he’s got no kills on his head, and you’ve got four. And you’re sure that Lennox and Trink still think that he’s the one that ate all of his food.

There’s evidence.

It’s obvious. You wonder if he knows this too.

You give them a lighthearted smile, because for now, they’re not going to kill you. They’re going to keep you around, because you’re their only supplier of food right now. You have until the animals begin to show themselves in the woods again. Which could be any day now.

The anthem finalizes loudly, and the outside is dark again. Inside the cornucopia, the fire is still going, still giving off plenty of light.

“I’d say we go out and try our luck with hunting again.” Allio says.

Bad idea, you’re already shaking your head, “Just so we can come right back here in a few days? The arena is huge, you have to know that at this point. We could walk for miles and still find nothing.”

There’s a glare in his eyes, “It’s better than sitting here.”

“I don’t think so. Everyone out there is going to die one way or another, let them kill themselves.”

“And what about us?” Trink asks.

You give her a look, and shrug, “We can’t stay together forever. But we might as well make the best of it.”

They already knew that, but you wonder if they realize that you’re banking on the hope that you all stay together. Allio is upset again, Trink looks like she’s taking what you said into consideration, and Lennox is indifferent. 

Lennox keeps the fire going. He says that tomorrow will be Trink’s turn to watch over, and then it’s left to you and Allio to fight it out. Then, you’re all laying down to sleep. Except, it doesn’t come easy tonight.

Nine tributes left in the games. Eight that need to die to make sure that you win. Three of them are allies, one of them a friend from back home, two of them you consider friendly, and two nobodies that you could care less about. You’re almost there. All you have to do is not give up.

You’ve kept your strength this far, what’s a little more?

In the morning, you’re up to relieve Lennox so he can go straight to bed. By the time the sun is higher up in the sky, Allio and Trink are up. You all agree that it would be a good idea for you to go out and fish, because one measly rabbit isn’t going to do much for you four.

You take the backpack with you, and leave without waiting for Lennox to wake up. The others will fill him in, and since they’re awake, they’ll be able to watch over the cornucopia. You just hope that Allio isn’t going to fill their heads with the same thoughts you had last night.

The pond is devoid of Blaire, and it’s quiet. You fish, your thoughts being your only company. And they aren’t very pleasant.

You think that if Allio were to die and the others were to find out that it were you, they wouldn’t be angry. Obviously killing either Trink or Lennox would make the other mad, because that’s their friend from back home. It would be interesting to try and pin it on Allio and see how either of them react, but that could easily backfire. All they’d have to do is think that you’re accusing people too often, and suddenly you’re the odd one out.

And getting rid of Allio would do good, because he’s a boy. And if there are only two to three girls left in the game, it would be nice to even out the playing field a little. Give you, Trink and whoever the other person may or may not be, a good fighting chance. 

You’ve done fine against boys so far, but it’s good to have that extra step, anyway.

There’s a crackle of a leaf, which makes you look over. Blaire’s coming through the trees, still looking malnourished, but a lot more energetic today, “Good morning,” he says, and then sits by you without a word.

It would be a lot easier if he knew how to fish for himself. He’s seen where you put the fishing pole, the real thing that he’s missing is the knowledge and a water bottle to reel in the fish. But then again, you don’t want to just hand out information without getting something in return.

“Good morning.”

“Saw the sky last night, right?” he asks, and you nod. The stench of fish coming from the canteen bottle is enough for you to rethink wanting to touch it and use it as bait, “I have a feeling Thyme and Finnick were working together.”

You look over at him, “Yesterday you said you all split.”

“Finnick and Thyme vaguely ran in the same direction. I couldn’t keep up.” he says, “And I haven’t been able to find them since. The arena is huge, (Y/n).”

You nod, “Yeah, we found that out a few days ago.”

Of course Finnick would work with Thyme, it just makes sense. From one companion to another. You wonder if he’s also hurt, or if it was just Thyme that took the damage. They probably brought in the Eight girl somehow, thinking that she’d be an easy kill, but wasn’t. Hurt Thyme pretty badly, Finnick finished Eight off, and then was left to Thyme. 

In that case, she could be a mercy kill. They could have been using that tactic this entire time, which means that a handful of deaths could very well belong to them. 

“Can I use your water-purify droplets?” he asks, you dig through one of the front pockets to bring it out for him. He thanks you, and then goes right to collecting water. As soon as he’s sat back, you’re pulling out a fish and telling him to take it, “Has there been any drama between you guys yet?”

You look at Blaire, again, and study his face. It looks like genuine curiosity, an innocent question.

He explains himself; “I’m just asking, since all the other times with the games and there being this amount of careers left, drama starts.”

Maybe Blaire has a problem with silence, “Minimal drama, I’m going to take care of it.”

Right after the words leave your mouth, you freeze, fingers still trying to unravel the coil of water. That statement could mean a number of things to him, and everyone back at the Capitol. But talk about giving away an undecided plan. Killing Allio won’t be easy, at all.

Everything has to be perfect. You have until the animals appear, you need a night when you’re taking the shift, and you need to somehow make him look guilty and make sure that he won’t be missed. You know that it’ll be easier, one less mouth to feed, and he won’t be offending you guys each time he opens his mouth.

You almost think his death will be premature, and you should wait until the ‘outsider’ tributes are down a little more. That’s when the thinking stops, because it comes into conflict with your original thought. You don’t want there to be an even playing field, and you don’t want a free-for-all at the cornucopia.

Allio has to go, but you don’t have the timing down just yet. 

“Oh,” Blaire says, he probably caught on to the wording, “Right, is it a group thing or…?”

“No.” you say, “I don’t think that the other two will like the idea.” you put some more fish scraps on the end of the hook, and dip it into the water, “But it needs to happen.”

He doesn’t say anything. You fish for another hour before you’re tired, nothing has bitten since Blaire’s fish. He tries to give it up, but you assure him that it’s no big deal, and bid him goodbye, the fishing pole going straight into the bushes. Instead of taking the regular path home, you take a wide arch, hoping that’ll give you more time to find something else to take home.

Lucky for you, a rabbit darts out of the bushes, and the knife lands in the back of its neck. You’re about to say that it’s good enough, until the back of your mind is telling you that you might as well explore. It’s not anywhere near sundown just yet, and if you go back to the cornucopia now, you’ll just sit there with the rest.

And it’s easier to explore alone, you think. There aren’t a ton of people trampling over the leaves, breaking sticks and such and leaving an obvious path that you had been there. It looks less daunting, and the other tributes might even consider staying around. One path isn’t a lot. It’s worrying, they might relocate, and they might not.

You use some of the rope to tie the bunny up onto your backpack. It looks funny with how it hangs down, and you’d put it inside of the backpack, wrapped in a sheet of plastic. Except, it’s still bleeding, and it would mess up everything inside. You’d rather the blood get all over the back of your jeans and shoes instead.

If you were standing and facing the mouth of the cornucopia, you’d say that right now, you’re on the right side of it. Roughly where Allio had disappeared off to last night. If you were to go left of the cornucopia, it would just be the coast, nothing good over there. 

Out here, on the right side, should be relatively nothing. Especially with how the others have described it. You’ve never actually come over here, yourself. You always figured that there wouldn’t be anything interesting. They say they can’t hear flowing water, and it’s just trees.

So, you figure it’s going to be the same, and that the trip out here is useless, and you’re really just trying to burn time, not wanting to deal with Allio’s attitude. It’s devoid of animals, which makes you think that the gamemakers are slowly giving in to the supply of wild animals again, which is good news.

They were right about the dense forest part. You’ve seen worse in other arenas, but it’s still surprising. Having this many trees on what you think is an island. It smells green out here, too. Healthy trees and plants. Honestly, if there weren’t a coast, you’d just say that this is a regular forest arena.

Those tend to be the trickiest. Having to fight in them is hard. Hiding behind trees may seem comical, but they work better than you think. At some point, if you’re not careful, the trees begin to look the same and you can wander in circles for hours, thinking that you’re going the right way but you aren’t.

It’s even more embarrassing when you finally realize what you had done for the past hour, knowing that the people back home and the entire Capitol just watched you do it like an idiot. You always used to ask, “How hard can it be?” But being out here has opened your eyes. You always knew that the arena was hard, especially with how little the Capitol gives, but it’s just making you even more aware.

The more you wander this way, the more you’re able to see the tall cliff, which is beginning to look more like a mountain with how it peaks. It’s definitely climbable, you know that. Just by judging the incline, though, it’ll be a tiring walk. And for what? A good view? Right.

At some point, you get tired of walking straight, and go diagonal instead. If you get lost, you’ll just follow the beach around until you spot the cornucopia. Easy enough plan. Plus, getting lost won’t be too bad. Unless, of course, the Capitol decides to throw in their own twist with you.

After what you said at the pond, you have a feeling you’ve got them intrigued enough to not jump to do things with you. The Capitol has likely figured out that you meant Allio, and saying that you’ve got it handled means that you’re working alone. You even confirmed it by telling Blaire that the group wouldn’t approve.

He probably caught on too. He’s smart, older than you too. Just like most of the other tributes are, except for the Twelve tributes and Finnick. You don’t know the ages of everyone, just a basic idea of where they’re at. You know for sure that Allio, Trink and Lennox are older than you. There’s no question about that.

There’s a moment, while you’re walking through the trees, you hold your breath to make sure that you don’t hear anyone following you. And then you hear it, and it’s enough for you to look over with wide eyes, and not even hesitate about going over. It’s running water, loud and crashing.

As you move through the trees, you’re careful to make sure that there isn’t anyone over here. It’s uncharted territory for you. As far as you know, this is where all the tributes could be, all hiding out around the same area. It’s out of the distance of the cornucopia, and it’s away from the path you walk everyday to the pond.

It’s smart. If someone chose to stay out here, it’s smart.

Through the trees, you’re able to see the water, sneaking up onto the dirt enough to make it mud. You don’t dare move past the treeline, and even position yourself behind a tree, looking out to the scene in front of you.

It’s a paradise. Further out, there’s a waterfall, and it looks like there’s a running stream out here after all. Around the bank are flowers, there’s lilies and lily pads alike, floating on top of the crystal blue water. With how the sun hits the water, it looks absolutely clear. Clean, cleaner than the pond water.

You think you even catch a glimpse of a fish tail, before it’s disappeared completely. How did the others miss this? You have a hard time believing that their curiosity didn’t get the better of them. Especially the mornings that the boys went to hunt. You know you’d try and take a big track around to try and get the best of what you can.

It’s beautiful over here. And as much as you want to fish, gather better water and just walk into it altogether, you know that there’s something else here. Whether it be a water mutt, or a person. In the arena, everything is too good to be true. If it’s not dirty and clearly falling apart, then it’s gamemaker engineered and there’s something wrong with it.

Even with this thought, your eyes catch a vague movement behind the waterfall. A dark color, maybe an animal? But then it happens again, and you know better. It’s not an animal, not with how upright the figure is. One more movement, and it’s registered in your mind. There’s only one person that you know that would bet on something so delicate and dangerous. And it’s not Blaire.

It has to be Finnick. There’s a cave behind the waterfall, and he found it. Smart.

You have the sudden urge to call his name and wander out, but catch yourself before you act on it. You don’t know that it’s him, it could be another tribute that figured out how to swim or don’t have an insane fear of the water. And second, you don’t know if you’re still on friendly terms with him. Not after what happened.

Yet another secret to keep to yourself. You’re careful to sneak off without making much noise, a little upset that you’ll be missing out on a perfect fishing opportunity. If you had your spear, you’d be able to take out half a dozen fish before you realize that it’s way too much.

At least you know where Finnick–or another tribute–are now. You could easily blame them for Allio’s death if something goes wrong. And then the thought of the fact that you knew that they were alive, but again didn’t kill them, pops in your head. You can’t blame any old tribute for Allio’s death without being incredibly guilty.

You make it back to the cornucopia just fine, finding that there’s already a fire going again, and Trink is taking her turn roasting it. They’re all startled at your approach, reaching for their weapons. They must be used to you approaching from the side and coming around, instead of just walking out in the open.

“No fish, got a rabbit, though.”

“None at all?” Lennox asks, “We had so many yesterday.”

“I tried for hours, found nothing so I wandered around until I spotted this guy.” You free him from your rope and hand him off to Lennox, “It’s better than nothing.”

Lennox gets to work at ripping the rabbit apart. You go ahead and hand out the water, and then take a seat near the fire to keep warm. You can already feel the temperature change, again, the gamemakers are tampering with the weather. To combat this, Trink slides in another couple of sticks, and it’s just a waiting game.

“Who’s watching tonight?” Lennox asks, and he’s looking between you and Allio, because the two of you haven’t taken an overnight shift in a while.

“I’ll take it tonight, Allio can have tomorrow.” You say.

“I’ll take the next two days, since I haven’t been doing much.” He says, and then begins playing with his sword over the fire.

It’s an hour or so before the first rabbit’s meat is thoroughly cooked. You tell Lennox and Trink to share the first one, and you and Allio will get the second. For a moment, Allio doesn’t look that thrilled that you made a decision for him like that. But then he must realize that means that he might eat more, and the expression falls.

After dinner, you all stay up for a little longer, playing stupid games and trying to burn more time. As always, the Capitol symbol appears in the sky, along with the sound of the anthem. But there were no deaths today, so it fades quickly. Only then do the others call it a night.

You position yourself up against a box, the hilt of the sword in your hand. If you haven’t had any trouble up to this point, then there shouldn’t be any tonight, either. Which means that you get to sit around in the cold, watch as the fire slowly dies out, and try to keep yourself awake.

It’s just silence during the night. The only time there’s actual noise is during the day, when the birds and insects are awake. You can faintly hear the sound of waves on the shore, and you don’t even bother trying to hear the waterfall, because it’s too far off.

If you thought staying in the cornucopia was cold, you can’t imagine what it’s like behind the water. The water is freezing, and if it’s a cave, then that means the stone will be cold too. Unless the tribute inside of there thought ahead and somehow built a blanket of leaves to keep them fairly warm.

And the mist from how hard the water is coming down? It’ll make some things wet if it’s too close. The only real solution to that, is if it’s deep in there. Honestly, you thought caves behind waterfalls was a thing for fairytales. Like those stupid books your mom used to read you before bed, back when you were in elementary school. 

You listen as the sand shifts, when you look over, it’s Trink rolling over. She’s got her back to you now. Within arm’s reach is her canteen and sword, in the case of an emergency. A few feet away lies Lennox, who sleeps on his back. His things are still by the fire, but with far back he is into the cornucopia, he could just use anything off the wall.

As for Allio, he sleeps on the other side of the fire. Compared to you and Trink, he’s by far the closest person to the mouth of the cornucopia. Easy access for anyone to come around and kill, and just run off into the woods. It’s not possible for you to do the same. It’ll be too suspicious over the fact that you were missing. Especially since you were supposed to be guarding everyone.

Tonight isn’t the night, and you’re not too sure that the next two nights are either. But time is running out, and you need to get to him before another random tribute dies. You need a plan, not something half-assed that could easily be seen through.

At this point in the games, you’re not even sure if that’s possible. Everyone has some sort of paranoia running through their heads. And it’s obvious that it’s gotten to you first. It’s for the right reason, you think. To keep an alliance intact. You could always go out and survive on your own, it’s clear that you can. Just take a backpack and don’t show up at the cornucopia again.

But you’re relying on the other’s safety. And they’ll probably know where to go, down to the pond or to the shack to get to you and take you out for keeping them waiting like that. Of course, you could always go somewhere else to hide, but you’re not experienced in the woods.

Blaire might be. The only thing that he’s lacking is actual supply. If you were to team up with him, then you’d have a better chance than just going alone. But it poses the same problem that you’re working with at the moment. Eventually, tensions will rise between you and Blaire. And eventually, if you two somehow manage to be the last two alive, you’ll have to kill each other. 

You don’t want to kill Blaire. You’d much rather someone else do it, because you consider him friendly, just like how you consider Mac friendly. It’s obvious why you don’t want to kill Finnick too. So it’s automatically knocking out three of the eight tributes that need to go, to make sure you win.

At the rate you’re all going, you don’t think that Blaire, Finnick or Mac will die by chance. Blaire might not have the same will to live as the rest of you do, but he’s still fighting to stay alive. And a good example of that, is him stealing food, even though it’s dangerous.

Maybe he has a death wish, and he was partly hoping that he’d get caught and immediately killed for it. It would be one way to end his pain, but you’re not entirely sure if that’s the best way to go, leaving your life in someone else’s hands like that. Especially during the Hunger Games, where everything is supposed to be entertaining.

You could beg for a speedy death, but in the end, you’re all just puppets for the Capitol. None of you want to displease them enough to the point where they do something rash. Whether that be another event in the arena that gets you hurt, or something to your family back home.

You too, are a puppet. And it’s exactly why you’re going to make Allio’s death shocking enough to keep the Capitol on the edge of their seats, and better for you.

By the time that dawn breaks, Trink is up. She lets you sleep into the afternoon, and then wakes you up so that you can still make a trip down to the pond for water for all of them. You’re fairly groggy, and spend a good amount of time just making sure that you’re awake enough to do things.

The good news is, there isn’t an immediate need for fish. Lennox and Allio went out to the forest while you were sleeping, and managed to catch a whole pig. The bad news, the animals are reappearing. They’re still scarce, but all that really matters is the fact that they’re there.

You say that tomorrow is your limit.

Blaire is sitting in the shallow end of the pond when you get there. The bandage is gone, but the cut is still on his thigh. He doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, so you assume that it’s feeling better today. Before he can even ask, you toss over the iodine droplets.

“Thanks. For a while I thought that you weren’t going to show up.” He says.

“Took the night shift, I got to sleep in.” You throw the hook in, and resist the urge to yawn. 

Unlike the boys, you’re pretty capable of staying up throughout the night. The only person that really gets a pass is Lennox, because he’s taking the most of them. He probably realized that the other day, and it’s why he’s pawned off the nights onto you guys. Although, to be fair, you’re pretty sure he was taking it until the difference between you and Trink and Allio was settled.

“I was thinking about what you said yesterday,” Blaire starts, but doesn’t continue past that. 

Looking at him, you’re expecting him to pick up once he realizes that he’s got your full attention, you’re wrong, “About what exactly?”

He looks up from his water bottle, tossing the iodine back your way. You catch it easily, and he begins to shake the water, “Taking care of your problem–or the problem, I should say. Don’t you think that could get you killed?”

“Everything in the arena could get me killed.” you say, there’s a tug at the wire, you reel it in, “No matter what I do, I’m always putting myself into trouble. I come down here alone, I continue to feed you, I create plans and keep secrets and try to stay off my allies’ radar. It’s the same for you. Sooner or later, we’re going to get killed or be the ones that kill.”

“Not me.” Blaire says, taking the fish from you, and then watching you pack up your things, “Shouldn’t you keep going?”

“Friends caught a pig. I’m mostly down here to plot, but you’re here.” you look at him, motioning to the fish with one hand while you block the sun with the other, “Take it, it’s yours.”

“I could leave.”

“What you do, is your own free will.” you say.

Blaire sits down right next to you, pulls his shoes off and then places his feet in the water. He starts taking the scales off the fish, you want to warn him about the dangers of the water, how deep it is and you’re not entirely sure what lies in there. But decide you’ll let him figure that out for himself.

“Tell me your plan.”

You can’t stop the laugh that sputters out of you, loud and long. Blaire was expecting this, there’s a small smile on his face, and he waits patiently for you to stop. Even a couple minutes later, you’re still giggling at the idea. Telling Blaire your plan to kill Allio? And for what? You’ll give away everything about the situation.

“Fat chance.”

“You act like I’m going to work against you.” Blaire says, and you’ve still got a funny smile on your face, “(Y/n), I’m in your debt. Plenty of times now.”

“Why? Just because I fed you? As if that’s even a reason.” you roll your eyes, “It’s charity work.”

“You could have killed me by now. Or brought your alliance down and had them do the job.” Blaire says, “Or not shown up and let me starve.”

“You’re caught up in what-if’s, none of those are real reasons.” you say, and the second that the words leave, you want to take them back. Because they are real reasons, you’ve been smuggling this boy for days.

Back home, you know some other poor family would try and repay you. It’s just how it works. You could do something nice like give one of Naida’s boys an old pair of Reed or Mox’s shoes, and she’d be insisting on making dinner for you all for at least two nights. All of it would be on her.

And there was one day, something like that actually happened. It wasn’t for one of her boys, it was actually for the youngest girl, Windy. She’s older now, six or seven, you can’t remember exactly. But it was just after your dad had died, and your brothers and you were in a deep hole.

Reed was illegally fishing, Mox was desperate with his studies, and applying for jobs at the local stores around, but no one was falling through. Naida knew that the four of you were struggling, and scrambling to sell things to stay afloat. A lot of the things that you were selling were old dresses that Alyssum wouldn’t be needing for a long time.

Windy had some important event at preschool, and Naida didn’t want her to look dirty and poor. She was completely missing clothes for Windy, because she’d sold Calandra’s baby clothes a long ass time ago. And even worse, she was scraping by on rent that month, she wouldn’t be able to afford nice clothing.

You found some old dress in the plastic bin beneath your bed. Clearly expensive, and looking almost brand new. You knew that it would go for a lot at the Square. Even the richest families sometimes go down there to get a good deal on things. And if the Square wouldn’t have worked–you doubt it wouldn’t have–you were going to head down to the seamstress.

You didn’t even ask Reed or Mox if it was okay, didn’t even consider the fact that Alyssum would need something like that in a few years. You found an old shoe box in the boys’ closet, and then some ribbon off of a doll from your room. You tied the box up nicely, with some wonky ass bow on the top. And took your ass right over to Naida’s.

The dress was easily a month’s worth of rent, maybe more. But you knocked on the door, Naida answered, and you handed off the dress, saying, “I heard Windy needs something nice for her school thing. Hope you guys have fun.” and left Naida at the house.

Later that day, when your brother’s were coming back from what they did during the day, Naida stopped them on the porch. In no time, she was crying, and absolutely crazed because she thought you’d spent a ton of money on a dress that you couldn’t even afford. But Reed recognized the dress, reassuring her that it would be a hand-me-down. Even then, Naida didn’t want to accept it.

They didn’t give her a choice either. Said basically the same thing that you did. When they came into the house, they found you doing your math homework at the dining room table. You’ve seen Reed proud many, many times, but the look on his face is one you’ll remember forever. You did a good job.

Naida’s way of paying you all back, was the free babysitting for all of you. Taking Alyssum in during the day while you and Mox went to school, allowing Reed more hours for the illegal fishing. And even after he became a legal adult, she continued on with it. She definitely knows that she’s paid it over so many times by now, but chooses to do it still.

Anyway, Blaire might be thinking the same thing. But instead of a dress, it’s his life. Something that is so temporary in the Hunger Games, and even dangerous. You’re risking your life by saving his. You’re putting trust into him not killing you by continuing to do this.

And the one way he wants to pay you back is by listening and giving advice. You don’t know if Blaire has grown up in the poor part of District Three, or if you’re just overthinking all of this. But it’s what makes the most sense to you. You said it yourself yesterday too, that Blaire is not only older, but smarter. He’s got at least two to three years on you.

“There’s nine tributes left in the arena.” you begin, making him look over, “And I’m worried that as soon as it hits eight, my alliance will break up, and I want to keep it together for as long as possible. It’s nice having people watch over my back, knowing that they’ll protect me. And they’re not all that bad, either.

“Allio, the boy from Two, has been causing trouble between all of us, except for Lennox, the boy from One. Of course, last week you took our entire sponsor gift, and I honestly thought it was Allio, and so did Trink and Lennox.” you stare at Blaire, “They still think that it’s him, as far as I know.

“I would get rid of Lennox or Trink, except they’re friends, they’ve known each other for a while. If one goes, the other’s sure to go crazy, so I figured that Allio would be my best bet, anyway. The only problem I’m having is how to get it done. It has to be tonight or tomorrow, because I don’t want someone to die before we get there. And I don’t want the animals to reappear in the trees.”

Blaire nods, thinking this over. He’s quiet for a long time, staring down at his fish. You think he’s just as stumped as you are, and then he speaks, “You can’t ask the others to help you kill him?”

“They think I’ve only killed one person, and I’m not trying to come off as aggressive. I only blew some of it when I told Allio that I hated him, just like Trink seemed to. So, I bet I’ll already be suspected.”

“Could always say that it was some random tribute.”

“That’s what I was thinking, except there isn’t anyone around the cornucopia.” you say, ignoring the waterfall tribute. They’re not as important, they’re too far away. Once again, if it’s Finnick, you don’t want to give him away to the others. You wouldn’t be killing him with your own hands, but you’d lead them right to him. It’s good enough.

“You guys explored around the area?”

“More or less.”

Blaire hums, “You said something about the night shift, who’s taking the next one?”

You look over, “Allio said he’d take the next two nights.”

“Oh, then that’s easy. If he falls asleep during the night, just get him then.” Blaire says, “And then find some outlet, like sleeping or whatever.”

You hold your breath, trying to picture it. In this case, doing it tonight would be suspicious, since you’d finally get him alone for once–or ‘alone’. The others will still be there, just unconscious. You could kill him while he’s asleep, and then quickly lay back down. As for the blood knife, there’s a box that you could probably slip it under.

There’s only one problem, the one that’s nearly impossible to get around.

“What about the cannon?”

Blaire huffs out a laugh, “Guess you’ll just have to move quickly and make sure you aren’t breathing heavily. Turn your back to them or something. You can’t over sell it either, so pretending to sleep through the cannon might be cheesy. Or, it might be realistic, I don’t know.”

Allio sleeps on the other side of the cornucopia, opposite to you, closest to the mouth. Unfortunately, another obstacle is going to be the lit fire, but there’s nothing you can do about it. You can’t control the weather, the gamemakers can. And it’s going to be impossible to get them to just make it warm tomorrow night. Unless they come to the conclusion by themselves.

You stare into the water, almost losing yourself in your thoughts, when you see it. A dark motion, bigger than any fish, “Get out of the water, now.” 

You push yourself to your feet, throwing the backpack away. When Blaire doesn’t move fast enough, you grab the back of his hood with both hands, pulling him out of the water and a couple inches away. He’s got it now, coughing because of how hard you were on the hood.

The black mass is towards the top now, just beneath the surface. You watch the bubbles appear, and pop. One of them lands on Blaire’s bare foot, and he hisses, backing up some more. You watch as his skin turns a shade of pink first, and then deeper to red.

You wonder if the water was hot, or if it’s poison. 

Does it really matter?

You grab the water bottle that’s hanging out of Blaire’s back pocket, uncapping it, and then dumping it out, still staring at the water. No matter how much iodine you put into this, it’s not going to be clean. And it doesn’t matter that he grabbed it from the shallow end, either. Whatever is in the water can contaminated it.

“Here.” you say, placing it in his hand, and then moving on to your bag.

You pull each canteen out and dump them out, watching as the water runs downhill and back into the pond.

“Do you think that the fish is bad?” he asks.

You look over, he’s holding it out for you to see. You don’t spot anything abnormal with it, but you didn’t see anything wrong with the water initially, either, or the pond.

“Toss it in.” you shove everything back into the backpack, and attach the fishing pole to your backpack, “I know another place.”

Blaire follows what you said, tossing it into the water, and pulling on his socks and shoes after. You lead him around in a wide arch, exaggerating the path you took the other day. He doesn’t question you at all.

This walk is much faster than the first one, but the moment you hear the waterfall, you get a bit hesitant. You still lead Blaire through the trees, heading right towards the crystal blue water, but watching to make sure there’s no one there just yet. You’d like to give them a chance to leave.

There is no one, and there is no movement on the other side of the waterfall. Once Blaire sees what you’ve led him to, he gasps slightly, “Wow.”

“Yeah, I know. We shouldn’t be here for too long.” you glance behind you, there’s no one. If Blaire can sneak around you guys quietly, it’s no question that others might be able to do the same, “You watch out for anyone.”

“You don’t like it over here.” he says, it’s not a question.

“We’re invading someone’s space.” is all you say, “Fill up the canteens, I’ll get you something to eat.”

Blaire sits down, unfastens your fishing pole, and offers it to you. You shake your head, pulling off your shoes, and then your socks, and you roll up your jeans as far as they’ll go. After that, you pull your sword into your hand, and carefully wade into the water, watching for anything unnatural.

That was definitely a mutt in the pond, as always, gamemaker generated. It’s a wonder if it appeared because they made the creature come out, or because the fish that you caught made them appear. Either way, you couldn’t see it coming. You knew that the water was deep, but you didn’t know what else would be in it.

There’s a great chance that the gamemakers made the mutt appear to push you away and make you think of another place to go. Whether that be deeper in the forest, or over here. You need to work quickly, get Blaire his fish and tell him to go back to where his camp is, wherever that may be.

Your eyes travel back to the waterfall, still no movement. The tenant might be out, another reason why the gamemakers pushed you this way, to purposely cause conflict. If it’s Finnick, though, you think he won’t attack. And if he does, he’ll just leave Blaire out of it, since Blaire’s supposed to be his ally, anyway.

You feel something brush by your foot, and it’s enough for you to jump out of your skin. It’s a fish, curious and bold of what’s joined it in the water. You’re still, and stare at it, waiting for it to come back around. And when it does, you slam the sword into it, staining the blood a temporary pink.

“You should go back to your camp.” you tell Blaire, moving out of the water now, “Don’t stay over here. I’ll meet you back at the pond tomorrow, and we can take the walk around back over here.”

“Sure.” Blaire says, taking the fish off the end of your sword, “Thank you, again.”

Blaire must think that he’ll never stop being in your debt, and you’re afraid of that, too. The list keeps getting longer and longer. Eventually, he’s going to try and find something to pay you back with.

“I cleaned the water.” he says, “It’s all nice in there.”

“Thanks.” you dry your feet on your jacket, pulling on your socks and shoes before you unroll your pants. You sling the backpack over your shoulder, drying the blade on your jeans.

Blaire’s ready to go, too. He assures you that he’ll know the way back, and the two of you split. The entire walk to the cornucopia, you feel awful. Almost afraid that someone is following you back. You check several times, and of course, there’s no one there.

The second you’re out of the trees, the feeling subsides.


	10. Chapter 10

Well, even if you’d wanted to go fishing in the pond today, you wouldn’t be able to. Unless you had a lot more wire, of course. Maybe then you’d be able to attach it to your already existing hook, to make a longer line. Even then, you’re not sure if it’s worth it. The water looks like it could give you twenty different types of water diseases if you’re not careful.

The surface was definitely fooling you, that’s for sure. It was fairly clear, not as nice as the waterfall water, but it didn’t look anywhere near dangerous. Now, the water is in between brown and black. You can’t tell exactly, and you don’t think it really matters. It’s the fact that you were once drinking out of this, that matters.

Honestly, with most of the water drained out of it like this, it shows how deep it is. And the fact that there’s still water? Holy shit. You don’t think you sank that far down when you killed the boy from Twelve, but you might have. When you were in the water, it didn’t feel like that big of a difference.

But now that you’re standing over it like how a swimmer stands over a dive board, it’s a distance. You definitely wouldn’t die on impact if you jumped in, but whatever lies beneath might do it. This makes you wonder why you aren’t sick at all, if you drank so much water and ate the fish, shouldn’t you be… dying? Or at least weak?

Unless the water wasn’t bad until the mutt showed up. Which is so damn weird.

“What’re you staring at?” you hear, “Did the pond drain or something?”

You look over, it’s Blaire, “You could say that.”

He stops next to you, and inhales through his teeth when he sees the depths, and then his face twists when he sees the color of the water, “That’s gross.”

“You’re telling me.” you poke the side of the bank, watching as a chunk of dirt, grass and mud breaks off and falls. 

It hits the water with a plop sound, water flying back up–it doesn’t even reach the halfway point. And you can feel your heart die in your chest when you watch the black mass move. It’s definitely not the water, and it’s still the creature that the gamemakers released, just beneath the surface.

“I wonder how much further it goes down.” Blaire mutters.

“Feel free to go check.” you back away from the edge, and so does he.

“I’m good, thanks.”

You crack a smile, “Alright, let’s go.”

Today’s the big day–or tonight. All that really matters is that it’s happening, and if there’s any day to call perfect, it’s today. It feels like it’s around eighty to ninety degrees, and if the gamemakers keep ramping up the heat, you have a feeling there will be no use for a fire tonight.

Except to cook the rabbit meat that Trink and Lennox caught this morning. You know you keep saying this, but you really are out of time. The animals are back, the arena is hot again, and you’re sure that you’re on the verge of another tribute death.

You and Blaire walk in silence for a while, as usual. There isn’t much to talk about in the first place, besides home. Talking about the games and who’s going to win, will just cause a fight or end up shocking each other. Blaire might be trying to give you space to think about what you’ll be doing tonight, too.

You keep telling yourself that it isn’t a big deal, but it always snaps back. It is a big deal. One wrong move will cause you to get into huge amounts of troubles with your allies. And it’s not really something you’ve done before, either. Of course, you’ve killed tributes for survival, and one for mercy, but this is different.

This is backstabbing. You’re backstabbing Allio to a selfish attempt to save yourself. If you were back home, you’d be telling the tribute not to do it. It’s too risky, a hundred things could go wrong. Things that you haven’t considered, and neither have they. They always end up going through with it anyway.

Either it can go very well, and the tribute can slide by undetected if they cover their tracks well enough. Or they miss one small aspect, which is all it takes. One small, overlooked detail that the other tributes look at. Suddenly, the tribute is busted, and then it’s a race to get rid of the tribute before they can cause anymore trouble.

You don’t want to be that tribute.

Which means that you should give up on the plan, but you’ve come this far. Blaire knows, the Capitol knows, and all the districts do too. They’re all awaiting the show that you’re going to give them tonight. You have a feeling that they won’t be going to bed until it’s over with.

Can the girl pull it off? What’s she going to do exactly? Will the other tributes know immediately? Or will they believe the lies that she comes up with?

If you win the games, this will be a major turning point in the recap, you think. Everyone will all hold their breaths again, and likely still not believe how deceiving you can be to others. (Y/n) Gallows, the fifteen year old girl from District Four, who teamed up with the careers and managed to kill two of them without being kicked out.

You wonder what your title will be. Every year, there’s a signature of a tribute, and the Capitol takes it and spins it around to make the tribute memorable. For Anchor, it was how ruthless he was. For Enobaria, it was her ripping out a tribute’s neck with her teeth. Cashmere and Gloss get a pass because they’re siblings.

When you’re more than halfway to the waterfall, you hear the music of a sponsor gift. You and Blaire stop, and your eyes find it immediately, swaying from side to side because of the parachute. You lean your sword against a tree, and catch the medium-sized pot in your hands.

You move the parachute out of the way, opening the lid to the gift. Inside holds food, and water. You pause, eyebrows drawing in, because you’re not entirely sure what this means. You know it’s for you, because it looks like Anchor has signed off on the gift again. But why the water and food if you have enough?

“Hold on.” you tell him, crouching down to put the gift in the grass while you look over the paper. It holds two words, ‘turn around’.

You place the paper back into the gift, shutting the lid. You look over in the direction you guys were heading, and you find nothing weird about it. The ground looks normal, and when you look over the trees, you don’t find any animals or nests. Maybe there’s a trap set up somewhere over there?

Or maybe there’s a tribute? You don’t remember anyone being able to camouflage in the Training Center, but they very well could have hid that skill for moments like this. No matter what happens, you’re not going to be going that way. Anchor is saving you from something or someone.

“What’s wrong?”

You get the backpack off, placing the food inside, and then pulling it back on, “Change of plans.” you smile, “Let’s head back towards the pond, since we’ve got food. How does a picnic sound?”

“Sure.” he’s still confused, and you make sure that he walks in front of you. He might be the older one, but he doesn’t have the sword, much less know how to use it. 

“Remember how I said that we’d be invading someone’s personal space yesterday?”

Blaire looks over to you, and you go ahead and walk side-by-side with him now. You’ve gotten pretty far away from where Anchor told you to turn around. You think that you’re in the clear, but that won’t keep you from making sure every now and then.

Blaire nods, “You saw someone over there?”

“Yes. I was just debating on whether or not to go over there anyway. And since we got water and food, there is no reason.” you hope that he buys it, or at least doesn’t question it.

It was probably Finnick or one of the other tributes, prepared at the waterfall or ready to pounce from behind a tree. You don’t really care what it was, all that matters is that you dodged a bullet thanks to Anchor. All you hope is that he won’t get in trouble for telling you something like that.

“How are you going to sort out the water?” Blaire asks, continuing to fill the silence.

“Well, there were five bottles. So I guess I’ll just dump the water into the canteens and throw the water bottles to the monster in the pond.” you smile at Blaire.

“Oh, we’re eating by the pond?” Blaire’s making a face.

“Got a better idea?” you ask.

He shrugs, brushing some of his hair out of his face, “I was thinking of the beach. And while we’re there, you can tell me some wicked facts about them.”

You snort, as if you have any. The most you could give him are cruel stories about how your brother’s are mean to you. You’re sure that’ll go over well with the Capitol, it’s entertainment at least. You’re sure that they have better people to watch, though. 

“What’s the matter?” he asks.

“I don’t have any facts about beaches.”

“I do.” he says, “I guess I’ll just have to school you on it, then. Don’t you live right next to the ocean?”

You roll your eyes, “That’s so stereotypical of you. It’s like me asking you if you know how to rig a tv to hack into the Capitol’s defense systems. The answer is obviously no, and it was a stupid assumption to begin with.”

He’s laughing, and you can’t help but to crack a smile yourself. By the time you reach the beach, it’s well past noon, and you’re sweating. You manage to find a spot in the shade, but just like how it was last week, the shade doesn’t offer much relief. You pull out the food again, and just barely open the lid enough to spot the paper.

After slipping it into your pocket, you go ahead and get to work, allowing Blaire to take what he wants. You fill up the canteens, saving one water bottle for Blaire. He thanks you, and digs into his soup and rice. You give yourself a small portion, not entirely sure how much you’ll be able to eat.

“What’s your favorite part about being in District Four?” Blaire asks, and before you can answer, he adds, “You can’t say the water, friends or family.”

You close your mouth, because that basically crosses out all of your answers. Leave it to him to know what to take away so that you have to think about the answer. Obviously, your brother’s are a big part of it, they’ve raised you for the past three years, and they’re a big reason that you’re the person you are today. They’re also the reason why you’re fighting so hard to stay alive.

And friends, Naida, Calandra, Caspian, and all the other kids. Your friends from school, like Finnick, also make the district enjoyable. They’ve also shaped your personality, since that’s what happens when you’re around people all the time. You develop their traits, evolve them, and make them your own.

The water too, you guess. It’s what Four is about, fishing, and swimming and knowing how to use spears and tridents and how to tie knots. All the tributes before you, were shaped around that idea. Actually, to be fair, the water and fishing makes up most of everyone’s personality traits, it’s nothing you guys can help.

Unless, of course, if you’re rich and never have had to dip your toe in a drop of water that’s outside your bath. That is the only time where people’s personalities stray, and become unlikable. The people end up having no one to talk to, besides other rich kids that they somehow form a rivalry. And because all the poor kids don’t know what’s going on, the rich end up bragging. Makes everyone dislike them.

Anyway, you’re not sure that you’ll be able to provide an answer to this question. You give a look to Blaire, only to see that he’s waiting patiently for an answer. So is everyone else, so you need to hurry up and think. What’s an aspect of District Four that you like a lot?

“It’s not that hard of a question, (Y/n).”

“It is since you took away everything I was going to say, so shush and let me think for a moment.” you tell him, he laughs a little.

He looks away from you, to the water. You look over too, hoping that this will give you some ideas, but it only stresses you out some more. Water, friends and family. You’ve never known a life outside of Four, so how would you know your favorite parts until you’re homesick?

Oh, wait. That’s wrong, you do know a life outside of Four. You’ve lived almost three weeks away from it now. Family and friends still seem to be the first two, and that’s because you’ve never lived without them. They’re your lifelines, if you never talked to them again, you’d crumble.

You sigh, rubbing your forehead, “Ugh, I don’t know.”

“Come on, there has to be something.” Blaire says, “You’re telling me that those three things are such a big deal to you?”

“Yes.” you stretch, looking over at him, “Without family and friends, I’d be lonely. As for water… well, it’s not like it’s entirely that important but that’s basically everyone’s life. You take away that from District Four, and you’re useless.”

He hums, “Says a lot.”

You squint at him, waiting for him to elaborate, but Blaire doesn’t bother.

“My favorite part about District Three is the community. Everyone there is friendly, and if I ever need something, they’ll help.” He looks at you now, “And I mean when I’m actually there, and not here. We’re pretty poor too.”

You laugh. You guess community is pretty important too, but you’ve only experienced so much. What he’s referencing, is the district as a whole, or the part that he’s living in. And furthering that, would be his class. He says that District Three is pretty poor too, but it’s a lot better than Four. 

In fact, they’re right up there with One and Two. They might not be favored by the sponsors, but they’re certainly liked by the Capitol. They provide the technology, everything that the Capitol uses that the districts can’t, all comes from them. 

You’d say it’s almost insulting to you, and to his district, calling them poor. But you don’t say anything, and the smile fades from your face. You trace a seashell pattern into the sand, and wish that it were real. It would be useless to have, but at least it would be comforting to run your thumb over the grooves. 

Yes, community is important, and the only example you can think of, is the one you’re prominently in. The poor circle, one so bad that you become regulars to The Square, an intimidating place that rich people hardly ever dare to go to. It smells, and it’s loud, and it’s hard to understand the vendors because of their accents and scratchy voices.

The first time you went was with your brothers and dad. Alyssum wasn’t with you guys because she was still at Naida’s. The trip to The Square was made for soap and cheap food. Your brothers were old enough, had navigated the place plenty of times. You were new, the place was easy to get lost in. Your dad held your hand tightly and you didn’t bother to tell him when it hurt.

The vendors recognized your father, nodding at him in acknowledgment but not speaking unless he stopped. When he got to the soap table, you met the old woman that you’d be going to for the rest of your life. She gave your father his regulars without a word, and exchanged the cash.

It was only when you turned to walk away, when she caught sight of you. She made a small comment, something about finally being able to see you, and you gave her a small wave and kept on walking, not wanting to be dragged along. Other vendors seemed to do the same, noticing you, some taking note.

Only months later, when your father died, would you be put in charge of going to The Square. You were the same age, twelve, just a half added onto it. The place was still scary, and you didn’t know your way around it still, but since you had started regularly going with your father to the warehouse, people began to recognize you too.

You had been caught at the door, off to the side while you stared in. Where to go? You couldn’t seem to remember the path to the nice, old lady who sold to your father many times over. And you didn’t want to start wandering. So, you stood and stared for a while, slowly watching as the place cleared out.

You wanted to cry because you knew that the time was almost up. Once vendors closed for the day, that was it. And if their supply was gone, you’d have to wait until they had more. The old woman only supplied once a week. It was that day, or go a week without soap.

You were about to ask someone around you where to go, when she came through the crowd, the bag in her hand. People cleared the way for her because otherwise they’d be elbowed. You watched as she walked all the way up to you. She gave you the bag, you gave her the money.

“Do you have anywhere else to go?” She asked, referring to other tables.

“I don’t think so.” You said back, and she nodded.

“I’ll meet you here in two weeks.” She said, and then turned around and left.

She made it easy for you. Always meeting you at the door, until you went to go find her one day. It wasn’t as hard as you thought, the people around her directed you to her, and muscle memory served you right. She was happy to see you get there, safe and sound. And when you asked her where the soup man was, she gave you simple directions.

You’re on good terms with almost everyone in The Square. People you could trust if you ever got down. There have been countless times where you’ve been given free meals. Whether it was because of pity because of what happened to your parents, or because you managed to earn a great deal of respect, it didn’t really matter. 

All that really does, is that if your friends and family all died, you wouldn’t be left with nothing. You’d be left with a bunch of people that have watched you grow, from being Reed and Mox’s sister, to (Y/n). 

Blaire’s right about community, just for all the wrong reasons.

“What’s your least favorite part about Three?” You ask him, “You can’t say family, friends, technology or community.”

You realize that it’s bitter, and almost an attack. You want to go back to the cornucopia now, but if you do, you’ll be facing Allio. He might not know of your plan, but he might see the guilt in your face. You’ll wait to face him until later. Maybe you’ll part with Blaire now, and just take a walk for a while. 

Blaire doesn’t answer. If he’s thinking, he doesn’t have any expressions. He chews slowly, staring at the silverware that’s the gift had too. As if for just one moment, you two will stop being savaged children and regular teenagers. 

“I don’t.” Blaire says.

“I don’t believe you. Even the most positive person in the world has dislikes about where they live. It’s in our nature.” You look at Blaire, “You’re no exception.” You start packing, leaving all the food to him, “Make it last.” You say, because you’re going to be hung up on this. And there’s no guarantee that you’ll see him tomorrow.

“What did I say?” Baplaire asks, right before you’re about to leave.

You pause, looking at the seashell outline. It’s a wonder how many people in District Three believe they’re poor. Of course, all the districts have their own culture, and therefore their own definition of things. But still, you look at Blaire.

“District Three is rich compared to Four.” you’re going to leave it on that, but stop again, “Tomorrow is your hiding day. Pray we don’t find you.”

You get back to the cornucopia much faster this time, being sure to come up the side you used to walk up on before things had gone wrong at the pond. Your allies are sitting around, preparing the rabbits, and thank you for coming back early because they wanted water.

You hand it over, say that you’re going to take a nap because you’re exhausted from walking back and forth in the heat. It’s mostly a lie, until you lie down in the sand, and you find it easy to close your eyes and sleep. At least this will keep you from being tired later on tonight.

Trink wakes you up, telling you that the food is ready. You sit by the fire, crossing your legs. You let Allio grab what he wants from the rabbit first, and then go ahead and get your own. While you’re eating from the sheet of plastic, you remember that the pond is drained.

You look at Lennox. If they do want to go out looking for the tribute that supposedly killed Allio, tomorrow. Then the first stop is going to be the pond, because you’re going to need more water. You want to keep quiet about the waterfall, which doesn’t leave any options.

“I don’t think the pond is good to drink from anymore.”

You’ve got all their attention at once. Allio doesn’t bother to ask why, teeth sinking into the cooked meat. But Lennox and Trink are more apprehensive. It’s the only source of water that they know of. To have that be gone, would mean to die from dehydration. Tomorrow, your three days start.

“Why? What’s the matter with it?” Trink asks.

You shake your head slightly, looking down, “It was drained, there is no shallow end, only deep. I nearly scooped up water in the canteen before the sponsor gift came through.”

Lennox clenches his jaw, and releases, “Let me guess, full of clean water?”

You nod, “One bottle for each of us.”

“Fuck.” Trink runs a hand through her hair, “We walked for days and found nothing.”

“Is it possible to drink salt water?” Allio asks.

You press your lips together. What a stupid question. That’s basically the first thing you learned as a kid. Surely, they learned that in their special training academies too. If you drink salt water, you’re just going to end up thirstier. Why does he think you’ve been going down to the pond everyday? For shits and giggles.

The others must be thinking the same thing too, because they’ve got a look on their face. Glad to know that they have common sense. Proves even more why Allio should be the one to go, and not them.

“Outright, no.” Trink says, “Even if we boil the water… there’s no guarantee.”

“Don’t you think you should’ve told us this before we drank as much as we did?” Lennox asks, his face is flushed. It might be from the heat, maybe because he’s a little mad now.

“It’s better not to ration out water.” you say, “Drink what you have, hopefully our sponsors will give us more. If not, we’ll try and find some more. It’s not that hard.”

“I want to see the pond.” Lennox says, “Tomorrow, I’ll go with you.”

You shrug, he can come with you all he wants. The fact of the matter is, the water isn’t going to be good either way. He can feel free to grab it if he wants, saves you a lot of trouble in the future. He’ll get killed by the water creature, or end up slowly dying because of the poisonous water. Or, none of it at all because the distance between the water and the top of the pond is too great.

“Sounds like a plan. But we’ll still have to find another source.” you say.

“We could try walking to the left, instead of the right?” she offers, “Don’t you remember how the island seemed to widen out, over there? What if there’s a stream or something?”

“So close to the beach?”

“It’s better than nothing.” you agree. Direct them to the left of the cornucopia, keeping them away from the waterfall. You doubt that the gamemakers will just sprout a stream out of nowhere, it’s never that easy.

Trink manages to lift spirits again, you all play the game that you’ve been playing for a while to pass the time. There’s no faces in the sky tonight, but there will be tomorrow. You go ahead and call it a night with the rest of them after putting out the fire, because it’s the last thing you need in the already hot night air.

The moment you lay down in your bed, you can feel your heart pick up. This is how you will lay for a couple of hours, waiting for Trink and Lennox to fall asleep first. They’re the ones you’re worried about. You think you’ll be able to kill Allio just fine, awake or not if he’s not expecting it. Sleep would be preferable, though.

The plan will work if you follow it and don’t try to do anything extra. You’ll have to work quickly, killing Allio and then making a jump for your bed. The gamemakers will likely send the canon off immediately, since that’s what happens with deaths. They don’t delay them, no matter how much they like the tribute.

You can’t let anyone down. Not the Capitol, not the people back home. Your brothers will be awake and waiting for the moment you pounce. The more you think about them, the worse your heart problem becomes. You take slow breaths, trying to even out the heartbeats.

You can hear Allio moving, trying to find a spot that’s comfortable. The sound of faraway sand shifting is the giveaway that it’s him. You’ve found out that Lennox and Trink hardly move a lot in their sleep, it’s mainly Allio. You resist a yawn and grip your knife a little tighter. 

You drift off for a while, the warmth of the arena feels like a warm blanket in winter. You don’t want to leave your bed, and you want to stay there forever until District Four warms up again. You aren’t sick, you aren’t necessarily tired, and with Alyssum still asleep, you might as well try before your brothers come in.

Maybe Reed will let you stay home today.

A snore-like sound breaks the comfortable silence, you sit up with a jolt, a gasp stuck in your throat while you stare into the air. To your left, Trink and Lennox seem to be asleep. When you had taken watch two days ago, you figured out a pattern with them. Lennox sighs every time he breathes out, and Trink is always on the verge of snoring. Guess tonight is different.

As for Allio, he’s sat up where he was before, only now his mouth is half-open, head fallen to the side. He’s asleep, and if you could take a guess, you think it’s still today, maybe on the verge of tomorrow. You’re lucky you didn’t sleep through the night, otherwise you’d missed your opportunity.

You take a deep breath, your heart is beginning to beat again. You tuck your knife into your back pocket while you silently get up from where you were sleeping. The sand shifts quietly, you pick where you step carefully, knowing that new dips in the sand could be a giveaway.

Around the fire you go, you’ll probably have to act quickly. For now, you crouch down in front of him, pulling your knife from your back pocket. You look to the left to check up on the other two, both of their backs are more or less turned away from where you are. And back to Allio, he’s still asleep.

You have to be quick. Every movement you make after this is permanent, and it’ll decide what happens next. You hold your breath, white-knuckling the handle of the knife, while your other hand hovers over his hair. Your hands are shaking. 

This can’t be hard. You’ve killed four other people before him. Just go for it.

Then again, the other four were for survival, except for Eytelle. This is different, you’re backstabbing and risking your life. Leave the cornucopia and come back with a fresh mind. This is a turning point, you can’t come back from this. You fuck up and you’re dead! Who’s to say that this will even work?

What will everyone think? What will your brother’s think? What is everyone back home thinking? The people in The Square who used to call you a sweet girl. She’ll be gone, those words will never leave their tongues again. You’ll be called a liar, and people will turn you away.

Forget everything else, the only people you’ll have is your brothers and family friends. You’ll never leave your house again. Shut the shutters and never leave, not even for school. You’ll be just like the other victors, quiet and like smoke, as if you’re not there at all. As if you were a waste of a win.

This is not how you go home. 

You’re about to retract, to cancel the plan entirely. But Allio stirs, eyes barely opening, and you panic. Before he can make any noise, you’re taking care of it. A fistful of his hair in one hand, the hard stab of a knife with the other. His eyes are wide now, mouth open as if he’s going to scream. 

He’s dead.

You scramble, feeling the clock ticking in your head. You have seconds before the cannon, turning around and placing your hand square into the campfire. Your hand feels like it’s been lit on fire, you have to grit your teeth and throw yourself over. The cannon sounds just as you hit the sand near your bed.

You just barely manage to shove the knife beneath the box at your feet before turning over. Without missing a beat, you close your eyes and shove your hands into your pants. Your left hand flares with another lit fire feeling, but you wipe them onto your underwear anyway. You can’t have bloody hands. 

When you pull them out, you place your right hand between your legs and the other beneath your armpit. Your hand is not liking the pressure, and the pain is enough to bring tears to your eyes.

It feels like forever, waiting for Lennox and Trink to wake up. But they do, you can hear the quiet murmurs between them, and you struggle to even out your breathing to mimic sleeping. It’s fine if you make it fine. It’s fine if you don’t overreact. 

“Allio?” Lennox whispers, you don’t move. If you slept through the cannon, you’ll sleep through his talking, “Is he awake?”

“Don’t know.” Trink murmurs, “I don’t think either of them are awake.”

Lennox sighs, you think. More shifting sand, like a crunch beneath his shoes as he moves towards Allio. You feel a gentle shake of your shoulder, and decide that now is the time. You turn over, eyebrows drawing in, squinting at Trink, who’s barely over you.

“Hmm?” you hum, hoping that she buys it.

She does, an apology rolling off her tongue, “Sorry, there was a cannon.”

“Oh.” you sit up, pulling your hand out from between your legs, it’s clean. As for your left hand, you keep it hidden, not wanting questions, “When? Just now?”

“Yeah.”

You look at Allio, and Lennox seems to be struggling to see, “Can someone light a fire?”

“I’ve got it.” you say, moving to the campfire. You lean over it, and with a cringe, place your left hand on the still-smoldering wood. You hiss, yanking your hand back, “Shit.”

“I’ll do it.” Trink takes the firestarter from you, and with a couple of tries, manages to spark a flame on the same wood that hurt you.

It isn’t long before the flames are brightening up the area around you. The heat from the fire is making your hand all the more miserable, but it’s your fault that it happened in the first place.

All three of you freeze at the sight of Allio.

Like a sack of potatoes, he’s sunk, chin pressed against his upper chest. His hair falls forward, like a curtain to mask his face. Lennox is apprehensive, as if he wants to move Allio, but can’t bring himself to do it. He grabs the hair on the right side, and then quickly pulls away once he realizes his hand is wet.

“He’s dead.” Lennox says quietly at first, and then repeats it louder, as if the two of you didn’t hear it the first time, “He’s dead!”

Your eyes dart to the outside, and they seem to do the same.

“Do you think someone snuck in?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time we thought that.”

“What if they’re close?” 

“We need to get out there, now.” Lennox seethes, wiping his hand against his jeans, getting up and heading for his sword.

You and Trink follow suit, you’re just glad to have an escape route. You and Lennox grab backpacks, as well as your swords and what’s left of the water, moving out to look. Lennox grabs one of Allio’s arms, and you grab the other, dragging him out so he can be collected. After that, Lennox is fueled to go and search the woods behind the cornucopia.

The hovercraft does come, picking up his body and leaving. If anyone had been bothered to watch, they’re going to know that you guys just lost someone, or it’s another tribute that was dumb enough to try you four. Out back, you three wander far and long enough to reach the pond.

Lennox stands over the gaping hole, you don’t get as close. You can’t tell if there’s a black mass in there, and it shouldn’t matter anyway. If the gamemakers are draining it, it’s time to find a new source and not dilly dally on it.

“Fuck!” Lennox shouts, slamming his hand into the nearest tree.

You break off a chunk of dirt with the nose of your shoe and watch as it falls and falls and falls until it finally hits what sounds like a puddle. A piercing feeling of fear strikes your heart, and you back away, that is deep enough to be a well. And the mutt could be climbing up the walls.

What’s even worse, is that it’s too dark to tell and too deep to see. You regroup with Lennox and Trink, keeping an eye on what used to be the pond. You think you might get away with this.

“The sun is going to rise in a few hours. Let’s get back to the cornucopia, sleep in shifts, and come out here when we can see.” Trink says, she’s giving you a look, trying to tell you to keep back while she places her hand on Lennox’s shoulder, “We don’t want to get lost out here. We’ll get justice.”

He doesn’t say anything, just starts walking back towards the cornucopia. None of you fill the silence. Another hour wasted as you get back. When you get there, Lennox positions himself onto a box in the mouth of the cornucopia, sword in hand, fire still blazing. You and Trink sleep.

When the sun rises, Lennox is waking you for your turn. He tells you that if the tribute comes back, yell and don’t kill them straight away. He’s got a plan for them. You give him a hard nod, and take a seat where he was before. The fire is gone, and soon, Lennox stiffly returns to his sighing.

You did it. Allio is gone, and they’re not suspecting of you so far. The real problem that you’re facing right now is how to get water. You can’t go to the waterfall, after Anchor warning you away from it yesterday afternoon, you think that you won’t test it again. And bringing the others to it will undoubtedly, of course, raise questions.

You can’t keep banking on the hope of sponsor gifts, so there needs to be another solution, now. The more the sun rises and begins to take its place in the sky, the more you begin to realize that today is going to be another hot day, maybe even worse. Sitting inside of the cornucopia is the equivalent of being inside of an oven. But going out there and wandering might be worse.

Either way, you sit and wait until you’re sure that it’s early lunch time. By then, Trink is pretty awake, so she gets Lennox up, and it’s time to get out there. You apply some of the healing cream from the first day, and have Trink wrap your hand up for you. It doesn’t feel super good, but you hope by the time you take the bandage off, it’ll be fairly healed.

Before you go, you swipe a knife off of the back wall, and slide the new one into the special place of the old one. After that, you’re leaving into the woods, putting in as much effort as they are. You find nothing in the first section of the woods in front of the cornucopia, and move to the left side.

Trink catches a rabbit, you tie it to your backpack, and keep moving. It’s another hour or so of thoroughly searching the area, before moving onto the right side, which is when it starts getting dense and huge. You look in as many places as possible, directing them away from the waterfall, and when they’re bored of the right side, it’s straight to the back.

And this is the side that you guys walked for hours and found nothing. You quickly pass the pond, not daring to peer into it this time. Lennox mutters something about it being bullshit, and it’s only an hour or so more of walking up against the right cliff, when there’s a faint sound of water.

The three of you nearly can’t contain yourselves, coming upon a stream like this. Without a single word exchanged, you fill up your empty canteens. They don’t want to wait for it to clean, and drink it straight out. You go ahead and put the iodine drops in, and feel glad that the stream had appeared out of nowhere.

It’s two and a half hours away from the cornucopia, too long of a walk to make back and forth. Too far away for them to hear your screams, and who knows how many miles? All that matters is that it’s unrealistic if they genuinely think that you’ll be making this trip everyday. Still, you agree and consider going to the waterfall anyway.

After drinking two or three bottles of water, you’re all getting back to it, and find nothing but a couple of rabbits for tonight and tomorrow’s dinner. They think the murderer has gotten away, and that’s fine by you. You suggest going tomorrow, if the arena isn’t super hot, and they agree to the idea. And just like that, you’re off the hook.

Back at the cornucopia, you skin the rabbits carefully, since your hand isn’t in the best shape. Trink starts the fire, and helps cook them on large rocks you’d all collected from the stream. In absolutely no time, it’s cooked and ready to be eaten. The moment that you pull the new knife out to cut and divide the pieces–not wanting to make yourself sick–they stop.

“Is that a new knife?” Trink asks, you raise your eyebrows.

“Yeah, I lost the other one. I tried looking for it during my watch, but found nothing. Figured I’d grab a new one.”

She hums, and you eat. The sun sets quicker than it had risen, and before you know it, the blue hologram in the sky is appearing. The anthem is loud, and everyone that isn’t you three, are probably on the edge of their seats, watching and waiting to see who it is. You bet that there are a few fingers crossed that it’s a career.

And lucky enough for them, it is. Allio’s face appears, District Two beneath his face, and he seems to linger a little longer than the rest. The anthem finishes promptly, and then the hologram is gone with the noise. You help the others clean up, and then stay up as long as possible to keep Lennox company before he takes the night.

When you and Trink are far too tired to stay up any longer, you settle into your spots. You stick your knife blade-down into the sand, and sleep with your back to Lennox. And even though you’re a little paranoid that you’re onto you, you sleep like a baby.

In the morning, you gear up for the trip down to the stream by yourself, there will be no hunting today. It’s still hot, not as much as yesterday, but it’s still miserable. Both of them offer to come with you, but you tell them that you’ll be fine. They say they’ll cook tonight’s dinner, and you leave right after.

You walk all the way to the pond, but keep far away from the hole. Testing fate is fun only so many times in a row, and she’s bound to snap if you keep doing it. You wait for a while, picking at the grass and peeling bark from the tree while thinking. Yesterday must have been the family interviews.

You can’t imagine what your brother’s must’ve said about you, after a performance like that. Caesar probably asked them if they expected that from you, that sweet girl that everyone says you are. Reed probably lied straight through his teeth, “Yes, we all did. (Y/n) is smart, there’s no doubt about that. She’s been the most impressive tribute I’ve seen in a while.”

And Mox will agree to it, if he isn’t quiet and crying. He’ll back it up, say that you had confidence when you all parted, and he knows that you’re going to win. Hype you up to get more sponsors. They’re not stupid enough to downplay what you can and can’t do.

As for Naida’s family, it’s all the same. Every single one of them will lie, and hopefully you’ll get a boost because of it. 

It’s not that long now. Only seven more tributes. If a few more go naturally, then it’ll be even lower than that. By then, you’ll probably have to disband the alliance, but at least you would have ridden it until it was burnt out. 

“Good afternoon.”

You jump out of your skin, hand on your knife. Blaire’s approaching, there’s purple circles beneath his eyes. He probably stayed up all night to make sure that you guys wouldn’t find him last night or yesterday. And it probably would have been smart for him to hide today too, but it’s whatever.

“Hey.” you greet, “Your plan went off without a hitch, smart thinking.”

“And you’re okay?” he asks, but his eyes are on your bandaged hand.

You applied more cream before you left, got a new bandage to make sure you wouldn’t get infected. It seems to be speeding up the healing process, but you’re not entirely sure. You’re no doctor, and there’s no telling the limits of the cream that they sent you.

“Burnt my hand, but that’s the only downfall.” you push yourself to your feet, “Pond is completely gone, sponsors aren’t reliable. Either we can walk all the way to the small stream an hour and a half away, or we can walk to the waterfall, which is also an hour away.”

“Let’s go for the waterfall.” Blaire says, “I’m out of water.”

“Here, then.” you pull off the canteen, handing it over, “Drink up, we’ll get more soon.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

He drinks the rest of it, and you throw the strap over your shoulder. On the way to the waterfall is filled with questions on how it went. You try your best to answer those questions, but avoid what was going through your head and how you almost backed out. You want the Capitol to think of you as confident in your abilities, and that’s impossible when they know you had doubts.

Blaire’s happy that it went with no problems, but the two of you know that you have to be careful for a while after this. There’s no question about it. A small slip up is all it will take before you’re in trouble. With how mad Lennox was, he’ll probably kill you on sight, something you don’t need.

You approach the waterfall, and assuming that since there wasn’t a warning this time around, you should be fine. While Blaire fills up the canteen, you catch him a fish. The two of you trade things, gulp down water, and get more. You sit with him at the water, not being able to bring yourself to care about the tribute that leaves around here.

It isn’t until you dip your right hand into the water, when you watch the water turn a light shade of pink. Your hand is still stained with blood. You go as far as you can to scrub off the blood and dirt, and by the time you get to your elbows, you realize that there’s a much faster process.

“Don’t stare at me.” you tell Blaire, pulling off your shirt. He looks away, towards the forest, and eventually down at his fish as he picks off scales. You shed your shirt, shoes, socks and pants and you get into the water.

You ignore your underwear, since there isn’t anything you can do about it. They’re black anyway, they’re not showing any red color, much less crusty because of the blood. It looks like a bulk of the blood ended up on your thighs and stomach anyway. So, you rub your skin for as long as possible, until the water stops running a tinted color.

After that, you pull your hair out of your ponytail, and place your head into the water, scrubbing out the dirt and grease the best you can. It feels good to itch your head, but you know it’ll just be a downhill from here. You pull your hair back up, and squeeze out a lot of water, letting the excess drip onto your back, because it’s cold and feels nice.

You get dressed again, and even though you’ve been wearing these clothes for… two weeks? You feel much cleaner. Once you win the games, you’ll finally be able to take a shower and scrub away the layers of dirt that are embedded into your skin at this point.

“(Y/n)?” Blaire asks, looking at you now.

“Yes?” you stretch, you have to get moving now, get back to the cornucopia before they think you bailed.

“I’m sorry about what I said the other day, I didn’t think–”

You shake your head, “Don’t sweat it, you helped me plot and basically execute a murder. I owe you a big thank you, anyway.”

“Right.” he says, getting to his feet, “Time to go back?”

“Yup.” you gather your things, and the two of you start towards the cornucopia.

You try to tell him a couple of times that he’s free to leave when he wants, but he wants to keep you company. So, the entire way to the cornucopia, you’re telling him that you hope the games don’t go on for too much longer, and he agrees. It’s tiring, it feels like it’s been too long already. You miss home.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” You tell him, “At the pond, but don’t get close to it. The water’s completely gone and it’s super deep.”

“Oh.” he says, “Where’s that stream, by the way?”

You pause, thinking about it. Then, you turn towards where he’d be walking, “It’s like a two and a half hour walk from here. Keep towards the right side, eventually you should hear water.”

“Alright.” he says, and before he lets you go, he pulls you into a side-hug.

At first, you’re sure this is a plot to kill you, especially after just asking where the stream is. You stiffen up, fully prepared to swing your sword. But after a small squeeze, he gives you a smile, “Be safe.” and walks away.

You stand for a moment, staring at him because you’re surprised that he hugged you, and then just walked away just like that. A small smile breaks over your face soon after, and you head towards the cornucopia, a little giddy. You were already happy when you saw Blaire earlier this morning, but a hug before he went was even better.

You were totally prepared for him to try and kill you, which is ridiculous, as if he’d ever try something like that on you. Blaire has proven to be a good friend, and you have too. Although, you have to admit you’re pretty stiff sometimes when it comes to him, but honestly, you didn’t see him as your friend at first. You thought he was Finnick’s.

As you get closer to the cornucopia, you can hear a low muttering. You go ahead and tell Lennox and Trink that it’s you, and they get a little quieter. As you round the corner, you toss the backpack in, because it’s heavy and you’re ready to lift the feeling from your shoulders.

You’re not even a step inside yourself, when two hands grab a hold on your shoulders, and slam you so hard into the cornucopia wall, that you feel the breath leave your lungs. You struggle for a moment, and just barely get a lungful of air in, when his forearm slams against your windpipe. 

You weren’t choking before, you are now. You wrap your fingers around his arm, dropping your sword and trying to pull his arm off. You open your mouth, wanting to form words and speak to get through to him, but it’s worthless.

They know.

“You thought that you’d get away with it, huh?” Lennox asks, you watch him draw his arm back, hand formed in a fist. You’re wincing before he’s even thrown it, trying to turn your face away from him.

He slams his fist into your cheekbone, making an ache form in your teeth. The pain is duly hot, blooming across your upper cheek and downward like it’s trickling. Like blood. He lets you free now, and you immediately gasp, hands shaking and wanting to touch the idea he’d just hit.

Before you can get up and try to run, he’s grabbing the hem of your shirt, yanking you back up and this time, slams his hand into your nose. It’s much more painful. Hearing the snap and feeling the sharp pain, and the blood rushing out and down your lips.

“Killing Allio? You’re not as smart as you think.” he says, drawing his foot back.

Behind him, you can see Trink. In her hand, held out in her palm, is the bloody knife you used to kill Allio. You manage to catch a glimpse of what used to be your bed, and it’s completely torn up from them searching it. 

Lennox lands the kick, and a scream is leaving your lips, fingers fumbling to the area. Another stabbing pain, a broken rib? It hurts, and you struggle to control the tears, still trying to flee the cornucopia. There’s a familiar taste of copper and dirt in your mouth, either blood from your nose or you bit your tongue in your haste to scream.

“Found the knife you murdered him with.” he says, and just as you begin to crawl in the sun-baked sand, he grabs your ankle with two hands, yanking you back inside, “It was pretty easy, after you said you lost it.”

No, no, no, no.

You open your mouth, ready to plead, and he raises his eyebrows in expectation, ready for you to do it too. He crouches over your body, hand cupped around his ear, “What was that, bitch?”

You decide that you will not plead for your life. You muster up all the saliva and blood you can, and send it flying into his eyes. He’s pissed now, you can see that. He swipes it from his eyes, and stands up. Without another word, he swings his foot into your chest hard. You can feel another rib break, and it’s enough to make the tears spill over.

Lennox looks like he’s going to do it again, and you’re ready for another broken rib, when he changes it up, and slams his foot straight into your temple.

Static in your brain, loud ringing in your ears.

It’s a numbness, falling back against the sand, a garbled moan leaving you. Lennox is saying something that you can’t hear. You feel bad for Reed and Mox. Their baby sister is about to get her ass rightfully handed to her. Fifteen years on this earth and the last three were spent in an arena fighting for her life every waking moment.

If only you could kiss Alyssum goodnight one more time.

There’s a pressure on your throat again, enough to barely get you out of your daze. You reach up, pushing his head away from you, hoping that it’ll be good enough, but he seems to pin you down easily, both hands beneath one of his. While the other is on your throat.

You can’t breathe.

You hold your breath, because you don’t have much of a choice. You vaguely remember the fighting expert back in the Training Center having a way to escape this. You can’t recall what it is exactly, and at this point, does it matter? With Lennox’s body on yours, he’s putting pressure on your stomach that’s rising to your ribs. It’s making it harder not to breathe.

Lennox is saying something about mangling your body beyond repair. Ripping apart your ‘pretty face’ enough to the point where your own family won’t be able to recognize you after this. And you can’t help but to think, “Great, another memorable grave to add to the family.” since your fathers is empty, with no body recovered from the sea.

He moves a little to the right, where they both are, and you’re screaming again, bucking your hips. It hits you then. Lennox laughs at you, because you’re just another one of his prey. It reminds you of when he’d killed the boy from Six, the predatory look in his eyes. It’s just the same here.

Lennox said it himself, he was going to make the murderer of Allio pay, and you are definitely not an exception.

You slam your hips upward again, and it’s enough momentum to flip you on top of him. You can hear movement on both sides, one of them being Trink, you think. But your eyes are on Lennox, he’s the real threat here. You reach for your knife, fumbling to get it out of your belt. 

Lennox sees, and just as you get it out, he slips it from your fingers. There’s a triumphant look on his face, and your first thought is; “I lose.” He slams the knife into your stomach, all the way down to the hilt, similar to what you’d done to Allio. 

“No!” you hear, and you slip off of Lennox, fingers slipping to the new wound, adding to the others. When you pull your hand away, you can see the crimson red blood, bright as taunting.

You’re dying.

A body slams into Trink first, knocking her off her feet. It’s a blur, watching as the person returns to their feet and jumps onto Lennox now, landing blow after blow. Suddenly the face turns to you, and you can see it’s Blaire, “Go!” he shouts, “Run!”

“Thank you.” you say, at least you think you do. You can’t tell anymore. 

You reach for your sword, knowing it’s heavy but you need a crutch. You’re about to say it’s good, and you won’t be able to carry anything else, with two broken ribs, wobbly knees and a knife sticking out of your stomach. But if you manage to get out of this, you’re going to need more.

You just barely get the backpack over your shoulder. Trink moves forward to take you down, but Blaire, with the strength of three total football players from back home, takes her down and throws her on top of Lennox. Blaire glances at you one last time that you know of, and then you’re out of sight.

Dragging your feet through the sand is too hard. You thought that running through it on the first day was hard, this is more difficult. You just barely make it into the trees in a minute before the ground barely evens out. You move faster, but it’s not by much. If the others knew where to run, they’d catch up with you easily.

You hope Blaire makes it out alive. You knew he thought he owed you, but you never thought that he’d sacrifice his life for you.

The more you move, the more your legs seem to give out, and you’re having to lean onto the sword more and more. You contemplate pulling the knife out several times over, knowing that it’ll maybe make you move faster. But you’ll bleed out quickly, it’ll just make it all the much worse.

Black spots begin to eat up at the corner of your vision, the heat of the arena feels like you’re residing in hell. Your legs are heavy, balls chained to your ankles as you barely pull your feet through thickets of poison ivy. You can’t go much further, but you have to keep moving. The moment you stop is the moment you claim where your memorial spot is going to be.

Deep breaths, you clench your burned hand off and on to try and keep yourself awake. The pain is mild compared to what’s going on everywhere else. You don’t think you’ve ever seen a tribute in worse condition.

You don’t know how long you wander, but it’s far enough for you to be hidden, you think. You raise your foot again, leaning on the sword. You can’t catch yourself when you place it down, your ankle completely giving out. You hit the ground on your left side first, before rolling onto your back.

This is it. This is where you die. In the middle of the forest, bloody and bruised and small and young. You were never made for this arena. Whatever chance you thought you had, has now been blown. You did it, (Y/n). You fucked up a predictable situation.

And now your brother’s get to watch you die. 

You’ll get your own tourist location, and go down as the fifteen year old that took down a lot of people before she died herself. People might think of you as impressive, and other younger tributes might strive to be you. Might.

You close your eyes, tears gathering. 

At least you get to die to the sound of running water. The sound of home.


	11. LOURING

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ! Listen, this takes place DURING chapter ten on the SECOND day. After Allio has been killed and before (Y/n) is stabbed. In Catching Fire, it is said that when there are 8 tributes left, the families of the remaining tributes will be interviewed !
> 
> LOURING; verb; to look angry or sullen; frown.

With a stern and hateful look into the living room, Reed can’t believe he’s watching his furniture be rearranged by a bunch of Capitol people to make his house look more appealing. Not only is it insulting, it goes to show how insensitive the Capitol is to the people in the district. 

Reed has an unhealthy desire to yell at every single one of them and take out his frustrations, as if that’ll help his sister’s situation inside of the arena. They might not have put her in their direction, but they’re a big reason why the games continue to go on. For their sick entertainment. She’s fifteen for fuck’s sake.

He doesn’t move, and he doesn’t unclench his jaw. He barely acknowledges Alyssum’s presence in his arms, because he wants to keep an eye on the people. As if they’ll end up swiping something in the house. There’s nothing valuable to them, and it’s a crazy though. Especially while he watches them try to touch as little things as possible.

Some lady moves a special bamboo plant that Reed remembers mom taking care of, like it’s also a child of hers. The Capitol lady has a look of disgust on her face when she looks back down at her white gloves, and brushes the dirt back into the plant, “You should clean.” is all she says, and then moves in the lamp.

Once they plug it in, they turn it on. It brightens up the entire room, more than any open curtain has. Like the lady’s gloves, the light is also white and it stings his eyes a little. Alyssum turns her face from where they’d been working, and places her head on his chest.

“Ouch.” she mutters, rubbing her eyes with her hands.

“Sorry.” Reed murmurs, fixing her in his arms but not moving. The living room looks foreign to him.

He wonders if they’ll be moving all of this back after the interview, or if he’ll be left with Mox to do it themselves. He hopes that they have enough decency to not do the latter, but after watching everything they’ve done so far, he wouldn’t put it past them. The first thing that they said when they walked in the house was how they were going to have to readjust.

What a nice greeting to a family of a tribute, right? For once, Reed watched Mox leave the room because of how mad he was. And that’s when Reed decided that he’d hold onto Alyssum until Mox felt better. Mox isn’t able to tolerate as much as he is, hasn’t had the experience of holding in his emotions for the better.

Reed’s been working on that for years now, it’s just what happens when you’re the head of the household. You have to be strong for the people who can’t be strong for themselves. When his sister comes back from the Capitol, he’s sure that burden will be even worse. He’s seen the way that victors react to people when they come back. It’s not pretty.

It’ll take a while for her to get used to her surroundings, and Reed will be there every step of the way. The adjustment will be hard, but they’ve all been through worse, he thinks. He thinks that watching his father come out of the hospital room, with tears in his eyes and a shake of his head, was hard. Even worse when he’d die months later, and leave Reed and Mox to take care of two expensive girls, especially when neither of them had experience.

Reed was only seventeen, Mox was sixteen. And for the first time in Reed’s entire life, he had to sign up for tessera. He’ll never forget the look on Caspian’s face when he broke the news. How he might get chosen the next year, because his name would be in there more times than needed. Instead of six times, it would be fourteen. Soon, Reed would be eighteen, and then he’d begin to bring in cash.

It wasn’t the same without two parents in the house. There might have been a year gap between him and Mox, but Reed felt old. Older than he was, and wise well beyond his years. He was so aware of the fact that three lives were depending on him, and he was terrified because of it.

He managed to stable out, but the fear hasn’t left him since. Even with Mox’s income, they’re always scraping by. One bad move, one accident could send them spiraling again. When (Y/n) wins the games, they’ll be able to float. They’ll be richer than they’ll have ever been, more than their grandparents.

It’ll be a game changer. But he doesn’t care about the money, he cares about her. The house isn’t the same without her, it’s empty and quiet. Dim and damp. Walking into her room is like walking into his parents room. Dusty, dark, and it feels like a graveyard, everything should be untouched to preserve her memory.

“Excuse me.” a male voice cuts, making Reed look over, “Do you have any family photos?”

Talk about his parent’s room. They’re on the dresser, but they’re old and he’s not sure how his sister would feel about old pictures of her. He shakes his head, and the man sighs.

“Well, the room is ready. I’d get your brother and come back. We’ll be on in the next ten minutes.” 

They go back to plugging in lights, pushing the couch back even more to get room between where he’ll be sitting, and the cameras. Reed doesn’t want to leave the living room, but he turns and goes into the hallway anyway. On the way, he shuts the door to (Y/n) and Alyssum’s room, and knocks on his and Mox’s bedroom door.

Mox opens it, looking much calmer than he did earlier, “Is it time?”

“Almost, we have ten minutes or so.”

Mox abandons the doorway and heads inside of the room, running a hand through his hair. He rubs his face and then sits on his bed, looking out the window. Neither of them say anything past this, and they wait as long as possible, before going to join the Capitol people in the living room.

Standing in the living room is a short woman, bright red hair, grey skin, when she looks at the siblings, her pupils are obviously too small. It makes her look like a corpse, fresh from the grave and looking insane, Reed is glad when she looks away. Even Alyssum goes back to snuggling her face into his chest.

“Go ahead and sit down.” she says, and they follow.

Reed sits next to the arm on the left, Mox to his right. Reed sits up, placing Alyssum on his knee, facing the camera that seems to have a mind of its own. The lady stands in front of the couch, now, looking them over.

God, what is it with the Capitol people altering their bodies like that? Don’t they know how unattractive it is? He doesn’t care about the ash-colored skin, he’s worried about her eyes. And when they dart between him and Mox, it makes him feel nauseous.

“Scoot to the right, you two should be in the middle.” she says, and they follow her directions, after that she does a series of things. She angles them inwards, creating a space between their hips. She places a pillow--provided by her assistants--in that space, and Alyssum sits there now.

She moves out of the way after that, “Listen carefully,” she begins, and Reed and Mox watch as they readjust the camera, and the lights, “Sit up straight, talk in order of oldest to youngest. The interview will take anywhere between ten to fifteen minutes. No swearing.”

They stop adjusting the lights, “The camera will follow your face, I suggest not moving too much. The girl shouldn’t talk too much, either. Chins up.”

Reluctantly, the two of them listen to her advice, scooting up higher on the couch and raising their chins a little so they’re not pointed downwards the entire time.

“Your sister is a very important tribute right now, I’d suggest not saying anything that could ruin that. Remember that if she wins, this will be showing up in the recap. Big smiles for the camera, please. Start the countdown!” she shouts, and everyone takes at least three steps backward.

A man counts down from ten, around five, the smiles appear on the brother’s faces. Reed scoots himself back until he’s pressed against the sofa, hoping that’ll keep him upright. A little bit of anxiety sprouts on three, suddenly remembering that this will be broadcasting in front of hundreds of thousands of people.

They’re about to represent (Y/n), whatever he’s feeling has to go away.

The audio comes through before the hologram visual, above the camera. But Caesar does appear on his special stage, a wide smile on his face, behind him is a large screen that says: DISTRICT FOUR - (Y/N) GALLOWS. The words will be replaced with their faces as soon as he introduces them.

“Now it’s time for the family of (Y/n) Gallows from District Four!” he shouts, and motions to the screen behind him. There, he, Mox and Alyssum appear.

Reed’s eyes fall from the hologram and to the camera, still trying to smile naturally. This is going to be harder than he thought. They all listen to the roar of the crowd, excited to see yet another tribute’s family, and their way of life. 

“Wow, what a resembling bunch!” Caesar exclaims, “Please, introduce yourselves.”

Reed’s glad to go first, to get a break from the forced smile, “My name is Reed.” he says.

Caesar nods thoughtfully, “How old are you, Reed?”

“Twenty.”

“And you’re the eldest of the house?” Caesar asks, and Reed nods, “How impressive! It must be a hard job. And what’s your name?”

It’s a clear question for Mox, and Mox ends up raising his eyebrows a bit, lowering his chin when he speaks, “Mox, I’m nineteen.”

“Nineteen?” Caesar makes a face, “You are not!”

Mox gives a small smile, “I am.”

Caesar’s shaking his head, “Folks, I don’t believe they’re as old as they say they are. Haha!” the crowd laughs too, “And the little one?”

Reed looks down to Alyssum, whispering, “Go ahead and tell them your name.”

She bites her lip, and then smiles widely, “Alyssum.”

“She’s three.” Reed says.

“She looks exactly like (Y/n), do you know that? When you three appeared, I had to ask myself, ‘When did (Y/n) win?’ Haha!” and the crowd is cheering right along his laugh, “She’s absolutely adorable, I can imagine she’s a pleasure to be around.”

Reed and Mox are well passed used to people telling them how Alyssum looks like an exact replica of her older sister. Sometimes, they can agree on it, because there’s days where she does. But there’s days where Alyssum is such a resemblance of their mother, and it makes Reed’s heart ache painfully.

People have learned to stop bringing it up. But the Capitol gets a pass, because they have no way of knowing. They’re the outsiders for once.

“We get that a lot.” Reed says, “And thank you.”

Caesar seems to settle now, “Let’s start the beginning, shall we? When (Y/n)’s name was read during the reaping, how did you feel?”

Reed takes a deep breath to give himself room to think before speaking, “At first, nervous, because she’s only fifteen. I never pictured her on that stage before then, and I didn’t want to. Then, I calmed down some, she knows what she's doing.”

Caesar’s nodding, “Yes, she has proven to be very cunning. What about you, Mox? How did you feel?”

“Sad.” Mox says, “She’s my baby sister, I don’t want the world to touch her. We’ve all seen what happens inside of the arena, and it’s brutal.”

“What did you say to her?”

Reed fixes his chin, he’s going to have to answer this for the both of them. Mox hardly spoke when they parted ways, “We reassured her that she can win. She might be young, but she knows a lot about the arena already.”

“And you gave her that ring, right? The one she has as a token?”

The ring! Reed’s forgotten all about it, and he’s sure that she has too. She hardly ever pays attention to it, until it’s the end of the day. She’s expressed a couple of times to her allies how afraid she is to lose it in the sand. Once it slips off, it’ll be impossible to find. The only time (Y/n) really acknowledges it is when she’s taking long walks to places.

Like back and forth between the pond, or the waterfall. Wherever it may be, she’ll spin the ring on her finger. Reed’s a little surprised that it hasn’t come flying off just yet, considering that it no longer fits her finger snugly, she’s lost a lot of weight inside of there. They eat one meal a day, one bottle of water. It’s not healthy, and he hates to watch it.

She’s not skin and bones, and she’s not starving. That’s the only part that matters. 

“Yes, I’ve had it on me since she turned twelve. I didn’t think she'd get chosen for the games, but just in case, I wanted to get her a token to remind her of home.”

“What’s the story behind the ring?” 

Reed’s sure that (Y/n) already explained it during her interview, because he asked her the exact same question. But still, he answers, “Well, it was our mother’s engagement ring. When our dad first met our mom, she told him that if she were to ever get married, she didn’t want an expensive ring, and liked the smaller things.

“So, he got her that silver band with a wave on it. He thought the silver was close enough to blue, and it was cheap. As for the wave, he wanted something that represented District Four. When he proposed with it, she was surprised that he remembered, and obviously said yes.

“She wore the ring everywhere, and when she got married, she got a better band. When she died, we didn’t bury her in her rings, and instead kept them in her jewelry box. I wish I could say we have our dad’s matching set, but we don’t.” Reed’s glad that Alyssum is too young to understand all of this. She might be able to speak and listen to them, but she won’t start remembering things until she’s five or six.

The audience is quiet, Caesar’s looking confused. Reed knows the question is coming before it’s asked, “Why not?”

Mox picks it up, “He died months later in a boating accident. No bodies, much less the boat, were recovered.”

Now, there’s a sad hush that falls over the audience. Caesar nods thoughtfully, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s been years.” Mox says.

“Let’s talk about the Tribute Parade, then. What was your favorite part?”

Reed makes a face, “At the beginning, she seemed happy and carefree.”

“You weren’t bothered that she was holding onto her district partner?” Caesar’s raising his eyebrows.

“(Y/n) and Finnick are friends.” Mox says, “They’ve known each other for years, they go to school together.”

“What a shame then, for two friends to be placed in together.” The crowd seems to agree, “They seemed to be fond of each other at the beginning of the week too, I can see it. What about you?” more cheering, “Okay! Let’s talk about my favorite part, her training score. Tell me everything you were feeling.”

“Excited.” Reed says, perking up a bit more, “Seeing that ten on screen was a reminder of how smart she is. I don’t doubt that she did something impressive to earn it, she knows how to gain the good sort of attention.”

“That she does!” Caesar agrees, “Especially for her age too. We’ve seen girls and boys her age get around that area, but never a ten on the dot. Did you celebrate?”

Mox is nodding, a small laugh coming from him, “Yes, we did. We’re good friends with the family next door, we had a celebration. A few people outside of the houses came by to congratulate us.”

“I bet you had a good time. Did you do the same for her interview?”

“More or less. We weren’t happy that the week was over so soon, but that’s just what happens with the games.” Mox says.

“She was very deceiving on stage at first.” Caesar says, “Nervous, I could tell.”

Reed nods, “She’s never really been in front of crowds before, I believe that the thought of the camera’s weren’t helping very much either.”

The crowd shouts, and Caesar’s still nodding, “Yes, but she wrapped it up very nicely towards the end. Assuring a win like that?”

“She can do anything that she puts her mind to.” Mox tells him.

“Right. Now, you said earlier that her and Finnick are friends, why didn’t she run with him during the bloodbath? Why do you think she stayed?”

“Survival, she knows that the career alliance tends to last the longest, and it’s the most reliable. Finnick is pretty young, too. She probably didn’t think he’d be the best fit, after all.”

“But the other boy? Blaire, from Three?” Caesar asks.

Reed is nodding slowly, “Blaire seems to be older than her. She seems to know him from her week inside of the Capitol, so she must have talked to him at some point or another.”

“She said that Blaire, Finnick and Thyme were supposed to be allies.” Mox says, “And that other girl from Three, too. (Y/n) might have been caught between two alliances and she chose the careers in the end.” Mox says.

Reed motions to Mox, “She probably hasn’t killed him because she considers him as a friend.”

Caesar nods, “You know that so far she has five kills inside of the arena?”

Reed wants to whistle, because it’s a pretty high number, especially for her. She always used to say that she’d try and outlast the others as much as possible. But inside of the arena, she’s doing the exact opposite. Reed guesses that there’s a difference between watching, and actually being in there. Your mindset changes and all of that.

“Yes.” Reed says, and he knows that a lie won’t hurt in this moment, “And before you ask, yes, I did expect that from her. She said that she would win, and we told her that she would, so she’s going to do what she has to.”

“Even killing her two friends?” Caesar tilts his head.

“Even killing her two friends.” Reed repeats.

“What did you think of her act with Allio? Smart or stupid.”

Mox breathes out a laugh, “It’s a dangerous game to play and everyone can see that. Her allies aren’t stupid, so I don’t doubt that won’t catch on. It’s just a question of whether or not she’ll see that.”

The audience is murmuring, Caesar is checking the time. It’s almost over, “We’re almost out of time. Reed, if there was anything you could tell her right now, what would it be?”

Reed takes in a deep breath, “I’d tell her that she’s nearly home, and she needs to be careful with the next moves she ends up making. Towards the ends of the games, things tend to get chaotic, and I’m sure she knows that. All she has to do is continue to make the games predictable, and she’ll be home in no time. Keep your head up, (Y/n). We love you, and we’ll see you soon.”

Mox takes a moment, the angry feeling has faded with him. He too, takes a deep breath and tries to calm himself, “I’d tell her that I love her. She already knows what she’s doing, all she needs is reassurance. (Y/n) has a plan, and she’s sitting pretty. I can’t wait to see her again.”

Caesar’s got a slow smile spreading over his face, “Thank you for your time, Gallow’s family. (Y/n) has been amazing so far, and I can’t wait to see what she does next!” the camera is zooming out, the audience is cheering loudly. It’s over, Caesar motions to the screen behind him, a grin on his face, “Ladies and gentlemen, the family of District Four’s very own (Y/n) Gallows!”


	12. Chapter 12

The opposite of summer; is winter. While summer is hot, with a loud blazing sun, and endless sunscreen and sweat. Winter is cold, bundles of blankets, weeks spent sick in bed, and hot soup that burns your tongue, every night for dinner. You don’t like either of them. If you had to choose between them, you wouldn’t.

Both are miserable conditions to be in. If you’re hot, it’s nearly impossible to reverse. You’re stuck being hot, your skin is sticky, and no matter how much water you drink, you constantly feel dehydrated. There’s no air conditioning unless you’re rich or in school, and no matter how many layers you take off, you’re still hot. Cold baths are impossible.

As for the cold, it’s not hard to warm up, if you have the right things. Endless blankets, but also shivering beneath them, waiting for them to become warm. While the house will be hot during the summer, it’ll be cold during the winter. There is no heater, and your house has no fireplace. If you’re cold, your only option is to continue to put on layers until you’re as fat as a snowman yourself.

And this might seem overdramatic, but you’d rather die than sit in the heat or cold. So, you can imagine how miserable right now is. You want to curl into a ball, hold your knees to your chest while you beg the universe to warm you up. You don’t want to be freezing anymore.

You can’t move, though. You’re stuck on your back, in the endless darkness beneath your eyes. It’s as if you’re glued to the ground beneath you. You don’t know what it is, exactly. But it’s miserable. Cold, hard and unlikable. You’d rather take your chance with the heat right now.

It reminds you of all the times your brothers have thrown you off the fishing boats. Two bodies working together. One of them will grab an arm, the other a leg, and they’ll swing you back and forth, tossing you on three. You can’t hold onto them, no matter how hard you try. There’s no kicking yourself free, either.

You always go flying a few feet over the water, bracing yourself for the impact. The moment you break the surface, your body likes to freeze, the air being knocked from your lungs. You swim desperately to the top, trying to get back onto the boat. When you were a kid and your brothers did this to you in front of your father, they always got pushed in after you.

This time, there is no dad. You swim to the surface, ready and expecting their hands to be out for you. In fact, you think you can see their hands outstretched in your direction. You bring your arms over your head, boosting yourself as much as possible. You want them to pull you the last of the length, out and straight onto the boat, where a towel will be waiting for you.

But no matter how hard you kick, calves burning from the force, or push the water beneath you with your hands, you make no progress. Over and over, you kick, you push, you get nowhere. Why aren’t you breaking the surface? You’ve been swimming for years, you should be there by now.

Your throat burns from how long you’ve been holding your breath. It’s just a little further now, it has to be. You’re sure you can feel the warm air on your fingertips, before you sink back down. Is there something that you’re wearing? When you look down, you see a pair of large boots on your feet. You try and kick them off, they don’t move.

Looking back up, the hand is gone. Your eyes begin to sting because of the water, becoming blurry. Where are your brothers? Why haven’t they come to save you? You kick harder, gritting your teeth. You should be there! It feels like two hands grab onto your ankles, and when you see, there is someone there.

It’s dad, smiling up at you. He continues to pull you down, ankle to calf to knee. What’s he doing? He’s going to make you drown. You open your mouth to tell him, but realize your mistake when it’s too late. You’ve inhaled a mouthful of water. You reach to your throat, eyes widening when you inhale through your nose. A powerful headache hits your head.

You can’t breathe. And your dad just keeps pulling you down further. He needs to let you go! Does he want to kill you? Get off! They’re waiting for you up there! What will they do without you?

Your dad presses a finger to his lips, quieting your thoughts, “Shh.” he whispers, “It’s time.” When he places his hands on your eyes, it’s dark again, but there’s an obvious painful presence in your ribs.

You inhale through your nose, eyes flying open. Your fingers dance over the rockbed, searching for your knife. Where is it? Your entire body feels like you fell down thirty flights of stairs and then some. There’s a pounding headache, and with each deep breath you take, the stabbing pain in your ribs reappear.

There is no knife, no matter how hard you search. As you stare at the rock ceiling, trying to get a hold of your breath to calm down, you give yourself a moment. Wherever you are, there’s water. Loud, rushing water. A drop of water lands on your upper lip, beneath your nose, and you figure this is what brought the nightmare on.

It makes sense, you think. Your nose is burning like you inhale water. You reach your right arm up, it’s heavy and unpracticed, and lazily wipe your nose. The moment you brush against it, another pain is appearing, this time worse. You grimace, moaning, tears welling in your eyes.

You’re hurt then. In your nose, ribs and head, at least, there’s no telling what else. But why? What have you done recently that’ll bring this on? The last thing you remember is muddy, behind a wall that doesn’t want to burst. It was… you had just said goodbye to Blaire, and you’d gotten back to the cornucopia and…

Oh. 

Oh!

It was Lennox, he’d beaten you to near death, right? And you wandered for almost an hour, barely making it through the woods. You’d stopped next to the waterfall, and you were sure that you were going to die. You should be too, you shouldn’t be here right now. But you are, and that means someone found you.

You turn your head to the side, to the right where the rushing water is. You’re behind the waterfall, the water is falling down harder than it normally is. Outside is dark, like the sky is angry at you. Maybe it’s night? But a loud clap of thunder shakes the cave behind the waterfall, correcting your answer. It’s storming, again.

You don’t know how you got here. Blaire, maybe? Maybe he saved you and then came back for you at the waterfall. Found you and pulled you inside. You never mentioned the cave, though. Maybe he figured that out for himself. He’s been taking care of you the entire time. 

You look to the other side too, but you’re met with a fairly distant wall. There is another set up, the sleeping bag that you never thought you’d need. Actually, you’d forgotten that in the back of your backpack. It’s usually so hot, and even when it got cold, you weren’t cold enough for the sleeping bag.

And despite the things laying around, there is no person. You wonder how long you’ve been left alone for.

The ground shakes again, but the cave holds steady. You’re suddenly glad that you’re not outside. If you were out there, you’d probably frozen over already. Not that you aren’t currently freezing over right now, though.

The sound of splashing is enough to make you look over. It’s different from the waterfall, very distinct. You wish that Blaire had left you a knife to semi-defend yourself from outside forces. You wouldn’t be able to do it well, but at least you wouldn’t be left to die.

The figure on the other side of the water seems to be smaller than Blaire. Maybe the water is just warping his figure. It’s the only excuse you can think of. That, or Blaire has shrunk several inches since the last time you saw him. 

He moves through the waterfall, splashing water absolutely everywhere. You feel a whole lot of it on your legs, some on your arms. But you turn your head away to keep yourself from getting too wet. When you look over after the water stops flying, you feel your mouth go dry.

It’s not Blaire, it’s Finnick. His brown hair is pressed flat against his head now, dripping off water. He walks right past you. The only thing he’s wearing is his jeans, which are rolled up to his knees. It looks like hunger hasn’t been treating his body too terribly good, either.

He doesn’t realize you’re awake. You then realize that he’s got a silver trident in his hands, and leans it against the corner of the room. You’ve never seen anything like it before. The sponsors hardly ever gift weapons because they’re expensive. It must have cost them thousands, and it had to have been multiple people pitching in for it. If he’s had this the entire time, you can’t imagine the amount of people he’s been through because of it.

He crouches down in the corner, going through your old backpack. It isn’t until he’s pulling off the canteen strap, when you see that he had it on him. He uncaps it, puts a few iodine droplets in it, recaps and shakes. Finnick pulls out a few medical things from the backpack.

How do you tell him you’re awake without scaring the shit out of him?

You open your mouth to speak, but the moment you do, you can feel something dripping out of your nose. You reach up, dabbing your fingers in it, and it’s blood. Your nose is broken, how many times has it bled since yesterday?

You sniff on instinct, and it’s enough for Finnick to turn around.

“Don’t.” Finnick tells you, moving across the space and pulling your fingers away, “I’ll clean it, don’t mess with it.”

“Right.” you whisper, dropping your arm back onto the stone.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, “Hungry? Thirsty?”

“Both.” you answer, and he hums.

“Okay, well, we should move you, and then I’ll start a fire.” 

You watch him pull on a jacket, and when he turns to face you, his lips are blue. He’s probably cold because of the weather and the water combined. When he gets a fire going, the small space might clear up. You go to ask him how you can help move yourself, when he places two hands onto the fabric beneath you.

You grit your teeth, already not liking the way this is looking. The moment he pulls, tears spring in your eyes, and you reach up, grabbing onto his arm. He doesn’t stop, and once he gains momentum, it seems to lighten up. He moves you right next to his bedroll and then a little further.

The moment he stops, it’s a good feeling of relief. He rolls up the sleeping bag, and then looks at you, “Your stomach is still pretty open, I’ve done what I can with the sponsored stuff, but it’s not working very quickly.”

“Okay.”

“Your ribs are bruised.”

“Broken.” you correct, “My skin is bruised, you mean.”

“Yeah.” he says, “work with me, it’ll be a quick pain.”

He helps you up, the pain in your side hurts, he places the sleeping bag beneath your head, and calls that good. After that, he hands over the canteen and tells you to drink away. You drink measuredly, trying not to overwhelm yourself. You watch as he gets a fire started, and it’s warm almost immediately.

“Did it just start storming tonight?” you ask, he looks over, “It was super hot yesterday.”

“Yesterday? No, it’s been raining for three days straight.” he says.

“Three days?” you ask, that can’t be right.

“Yeah, today’s the third day. The day after I found you, the temp had dropped a whole ton.”

You shake your head slightly, “How long have I been asleep for?”

“Three days, at least.” he says.

“Oh.” is all you say, you close your eyes. Three days? “You’ve been taking care of me this entire time?”

“As much as I can, yeah. I’ve been forcing water in your mouth to keep you hydrated, and I’ve gotten two sponsors since I got you. All from Anchor, too. It’s weird, since Mags normally sends me the stuff.” he slides in more sticks, the fire grows, you can feel it better now.

You hum, “Anchor’s been focusing on me.”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

“The trident was a gift?” you ask.

“One of the couple that I got, yeah.” he gives you a grin, “it looks nice, huh?”

“Expensive.”

You go back to sipping your water. Finnick keeps going back to the backpack, so it looks like he’s been using it as a way to store things. You reach the end of the canteen before you realize it. When you tell him this, he shrugs and pulls out one of the others and slides it your way.

That’s right, you had Lennox and Trink and Allio’s canteens with you. You go ahead and take it easy on the second one too, “How many tributes are left?”

“Five. Me, you, District One and some other person.”

“Blaire?” you ask hopefully.

He’s shaking his head, “No, Blaire died on the day I found you. At first I had thought the cannon belonged to you, until his body was brought into the sky.”

“Blaire’s dead?” you breathe.

Oh no. He died for you. There’s no doubt that Lennox had beaten Blaire to shit before his death. Blaire probably came clean about how he stole your food and how he’s been with you the entire time too as a distraction. Make Lennox and Trink even more pissed to give you a headstart away from them.

He gave you a hug as a parting gift, didn’t he? He probably knew something like that was coming. It’s why he followed you all the way around. Why he was so upset when he saw you get stabbed. He thought he was in your debt, and he paid with his life.

You press your lips together, trying to keep yourself from crying. Finnick’s staring at you, obviously taking in your expression, “You saw him?”

“Yeah.”

“When?”

“For an entire week.” you choke, you didn’t want him to die for you. Not like that, “I was fishing for him so he could eat. You know how in District Four, people have a need to repay things?”

Finnick’s nodding, and he sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s better this way, I think.” you tell him, “I didn’t want to do it. Who else died?”

“Boy from Seven, don’t know how. I killed the boy from Eight.” Finnick is sliding two bowls of what looks like rice and fish. He takes your water, puts in a bit of it into each bowl, and then hands it back.

He grabs the medical stuff, and comes to take a seat next to you. He starts with cleaning your nose, telling you that it’s definitely broken if you can’t tell for yourself. It’s crooked, angled to the left. He doesn’t want to reset it, and moves to your burnt palm.

“What caused this?” he asks, applying the burn cream.

“Stuck my hand in the campfire after I killed Allio.” you say, and he turns to you with wide eyes.

“You killed Allio?”

“And Eytelle, but she doesn’t count. Allio’s the reason why Lennox nearly killed me.”

“I don’t get it.” he says.

You give him a feeble smile, “I killed Allio two days before Lennox attacked me, did it during the night after he’d fallen asleep. On my way back to my bed, I stuck my hand into the campfire. Lennox and Trink woke up, I pretended I was asleep through the cannon. They woke me up, and we found him dead. Then I stuck my hand into the campfire a second time to give my hand an excuse.

“We went searching that night for a few hours for the tribute. Found nothing, went back and slept, the next day we looked again, still nothing. On the third day, I saw Blaire, and we came over here to refill on water and such. He walked me back to the cornucopia, and that’s when Lennox nearly killed me.”

“Basically did.” Finnick says, he’s turning your hand over in his, “What happened after that?”

“Blaire came around.” You feel your throat closing, “Neither of us were fast enough. Lennox stabbed me with my knife, Blaire tackled him and told me to run. When Trink tried to chase me, he took her down too.”

Finnick nods, “He definitely sacrificed himself for you. At least you didn’t die, because then you wouldn’t have a chance at going home anymore.”

“Obviously.”

“No, not like that.” Finnick says, he’s pulling up the end of your shirt, and you finally get to see your stomach. It’s a complete mess, but it probably doesn’t look as nearly as bad as it did a couple days ago, “On the first day of the storm, just before it started, the gamemakers said that two tributes could go home. You’re lucky I found you.”

“Wait, what?” You ask, and he looks at you.

He’s patient, repeating what he said, “The gamemakers said that two tributes from the same district can go home. They announced it the day after I found you in the trees. You’re lucky I found you.”

“I’m lucky you didn’t kill me.” You breathe.

“That too, I guess. Never really crossed my mind. I saw you laying there with all your stuff and knew I had to bring you back.” 

You get to go home. The gamemakers let two tributes go home once in a blue moon. There’s really only been two or three instances before this. It’s a random occurrence, they feel generous and they’ll bring two home.

One year it had been two career tributes, two tributes that absolutely hated each other, you think. It happened when your dad was a kid. They brought the tributes home, and even months later during their victory tour, they didn’t talk to each other. He had no clue why the gamemakers did it, but it happened.

You’re lucky. This is pure luck.

Instead of it just being you, you can bring Finnick too. The two of you can go home, see family and go to school with each other. You’ll be sharing those looks from kids your age. And you won’t have to feel sorry for his family, and vice versa for Finnick. 

Oh, you can’t imagine how Reed and Mox reacted to the news. After watching you nearly die, this must have been a relief. Finnick would have a better reason to keep you alive. Why would he bother to kill you, when the two of you can make it back? Mox probably cried his eyes out, and Reed likely wanted to do the same, but held it together until he was alone.

You let out a sputtered laugh, but don’t go any further because it hurts. There’s a smile on Finnick’s face too, you wonder how long he’s been keeping that in for.

“So what do we have to do?” You ask, “You said Trink, Lennox and someone else? Do you know who?”

“No, but I think she’s been around here lately. All I have to do is find her. A lot of tributes have been coming around here lately.” He says, “To get water and move on.”

“They were probably feeding off the pond.” You grit your teeth, eyes locked on his hands as he gets ready to clean the stab wound area.

“Pond? How far away?”

You don’t know if he’s doing this to keep you talking or not, but you decide that you might as well go along with it, “There was a deep pond, like an hour and a half from here. But it—“ he starts to rub the area, trying to be gentle. It hurts like a bitch, no matter how hard you grit your teeth or curl your toes, it does nothing, “—it drained. There was a mutt in there too.”

He hums, and when he finally stops with the rag, your skin is much cleaner. It doesn’t end there, you watch him dig through the first aid kit, how he pulls out a bandage and rubbing alcohol. You can feel the tears spring in your eyes already.

“How many times have you done this?”

“At least twice a day. It’s much easier when you’re not awake, though.” Finnick laughs, but the expression fades, he looks over at you, “Try not to make too much noise, okay?”

“Finnick, wait.”

“Can’t, gotta do it before you can chicken out. Hold still.”

“Too late, I’m—“

He doesn’t listen, placing one hand on your stomach, spreading the wound open. You feel nauseous, staring into it. But even worse when you realize what he’s going to do. You wish that you were passed out still.

He dumps some of it on your upper body, and lets it run down into the wound. The further it travels, the more it stings, and the second that it hits the stab wound itself, you’re seeing stars.

“All done.” Finnick says, as if it’ll make you feel better. He applies some cream to it, similar to the one you used for your back. He places the bandage right over the wound, and presses down the sides to make sure that it won’t come up, “Lunch time.”

He cleans up, placing everything into the backpack. While he does this, you peel up your bloody shirt to get a better look at your ribs. The more you bring it up, the more it hurts, it’s stuck to your skin.

It’s a reddish-purple color, spread all over your left side. You don’t dare to touch it, you know the moment you do, it’ll send you into a spiral of pain. You pull your shirt back down all the way after that. All you wanted to do was see.

“Here, it should be fairly warm.” Finnick’s handing over a bowl of the rice and fish. Sticking out of it, is a spoon.

You eat slowly, not really inhaling it. Finnick’s already setting out another bowl before you have time to ask. Beside it is raw fish, which makes the whole cave smell like The Square, but there’s no complaints in your mind. It reminds you of home.

“Do you know what time it is?” You ask, carefully chewing on the fish.

“Late noon or later.” Finnick says, “I’d go out there, but I’d get wet again. I’ll check the sky in a bit.” 

You push yourself up from the roll. Finnick hardly pays attention, squeezing out the water from his hair. He sits at your feet, back to the opposite wall. The further you push yourself, the more it hurts.

“I’ve got your knife and stuff too.” He says, “I’ve been taking the knife with me when I go out.”

“I saw.” 

Another clap of thunder shakes the cave, you finish off your food and set the bowl aside. You give yourself the last push, sitting up. It hurts, you might be skinny now, but the way your stomach rolls onto itself is painful.

You wince, pausing. So much for taking it easy. You want to get to your feet, take in the real damage. You’re hoping you won’t need to use the sword as a cane anymore.

“Help me up.”

“Where?” Finnick asks.

“To my feet, where else?” You say.

Finnick looks like he’s about to object, then shrugs. He gets to his feet, and then comes over. He kneels down, “Once I start, I’m not going to stop.”

“I hope not.” You say, and he grins a little. 

He grabs a hold of your elbow with one hand, and wraps an arm around your back. You use the wall to push yourself up with your other hand. And working together through the pain, he manages to get you up.

“Want me to let go?” He asks, you’re leaning on him, trying to get the pain in your whole body to subside. The headache has become worse.

“Give me a moment.” You tell him.

It’s not nearly as bad as you thought it was. When you were going through the forest, you could feel every little movement. Every step you took, shook your entire nerve system like an alarm. A warning for you to stop before you push yourself too far. But to be fair, you did have a knife sticking out of your stomach.

“Okay, let go.” You tell him, and he carefully removes his hands. He’s still got them hovering, though. And while you walk around the cave, the pain is bad, but you’re getting used to it. It’s not like four days ago.

“So?” He asks.

“Feels good to be on my feet.” You smile, “Better not push it.”

He helps you back onto the floor, and you give him his sleeping bag back. You can sit up against the wall, it doesn’t hurt. Finnick gives you that second helping of food, and you tell him to not give you a third. You’re halfway through the small bowl before realizing you’re full.

“I’ll finish it.” Finnick offers, and you pass it over without complaint.

While he eats, you go ahead and decide that you’re willing to listen to what he’s been doing this entire time. He pauses, shrugs, and then goes back to eating.

“I was with Thyme after the bloodbath. She followed me into the woods. I thought Blaire was right behind me too, since he was so close, but when Thyme and I stopped, he wasn’t there. And Verda—I didn’t even see her.”

“She was next to me.” You tell him, “Died in the bloodbath, didn’t even make it to the cornucopia.”

“One of you guys?” He asks, you shake your head, “Oh, well, I can’t say I’m surprised. She did say that she wanted to go into the cornucopia to gather things before running. We told her not to. Anyway, after that we just stayed here, I got my trident and Thyme and I tied nets and drew in tributes to trap. Until the Eight girl came along.

“She got a hold of Thyme, had a sharp rock and slit Thyme’s throat just before I got her. And then I had to get Thyme too so she wouldn’t bleed out for hours.”

“How many times have you done that?” You ask, “It’s actually pretty smart.”

“I know.” He winks, you roll your eyes, “Plenty of times. It works pretty well when you have enough rope and all that.”

“Huh.” You yawn, and Finnick is raising his eyebrows.

“You have to be kidding me. You’ve been sleeping for three and a half days and you’re tired?”

“Sorry. I’ll try to keep awake. Must be nice to have company again.”

Finnick shrugs, “Nice to see you awake, that’s for sure. You were half-dead when I found you. I didn’t even get inside the waterfall to start when the first sponsor gift came through. You must be important.”

“You too, do you see the trident?”

He laughs, and you do too, “Welcome back.”

“Thanks.”

“Go ahead and take a nap. I’ll wake you up for dinner. Don’t be surprised if I’m not here when you get back.”

“Gotcha.” You slide down the wall, and carefully into the sleeping bag. Finnick is helpful and zips up to your chin. You can’t roll over onto your side or anything, so you’re stuck on your back.

You think it’s going to take forever for you to even feel groggy. But you’re drowsiest than you thought. The moment you close your eyes, you’re slipping off into the darkness.

The only reason why you wake again is because of a cannon, clear as day in the middle of hell’s worst storm. You jolt onto your elbows, the pain returns in your abdomen at the sudden movement. There is no Finnick in the cave, but he’s left you the knife.

You reach for it, fingers wrapping around the familiar pattern of the hilt. You continue to push yourself up and onto your butt. To your right, the fire is smoldering, no longer lit. There’s smoke coming from it, and you fan it away from your face.

Someone’s died, and it’s still not you. It’s dark outside, darker than it was before you fell asleep. It has to be night now, then. It’s the only real explanation. As you wait against the wall, you calm your heart.

It’s not that serious. Four people could have died out there, and you don’t think one of them is Finnick. He’s been able to kill… who knows how many tributes so far, he can probably take care of himself. 

Thirty minutes pass, and then another fifteen. You want to go out and stand in the rain to see if you can find anything, but you’ll only get yourself killed. It’s another thirty minutes, and still no splashing. However, you can hear the anthem start.

“Shit.” You breathe, what if you are alone? You have to know.

You push yourself up the wall, ignoring the wobbling in your legs and the continuous pain in your stomach and ribs. The anthem hits the part where they typically show the tribute. You zip up your white jacket, and pull the hood over your head. You turn your back to the water, and go through it.

Tons of water falling onto your head while you’re already weak, is a horrible feeling. You nearly fall over, but manage not to. The moment you can look into the sky, you can see the blue outline. The rain is too heavy, you’re sure that it’s supposed to have ended by now, but it’s still there.

And then there’s a break in the rain, clear enough for you to see. It’s the District Five girl. She’s gone. The anthem is then drowned out by a flash of lightning, followed by a long rumble of thunder. If you were to take a guess, it had to have hit somewhere near the cornucopia.

It’s cold, and you know you should get back inside. But then you see Finnick moving through the rain, canteens over his shoulder, holding onto a small line of fish. He looks up to see you, and his pace slows down some. He motions for you to go back inside, and you don’t wait for him to do it twice.

Again, you back up through the waterfall. When you get inside, you toss the knife onto your sleeping bag and peel off the thin jacket. It did its job against the rain, but the waterfall has ruined it. At least your shirt isn’t soaked, but everything else is. You squeeze the jacket free of as much water as you can before moving away from the entrance.

Finnick comes through a couple seconds later, again getting water everywhere. He’s got no jacket on, though. Shirtless again, his hair pressed against his head. He looks exactly like he had when he came into the cave when you first woke up. Only now, he’s carrying a lot.

“Sorry.” You say, Finnick’s shrugging.

“Who’d you see? I honestly thought it was you for a moment.” He says, “Can you get the fire started too?”

“The girl from Five.” You grab the fire starter from your backpack. It’s still tucked into the pocket you first stuck it into. It takes a couple of tries, but eventually there’s a spark.

One by one, you place the sticks into the campfire. The fire grows, enough to get the area to feel warm again. You make sure not to sit on the sleeping bag, not wanting to get that wet too. Finnick slowly dries himself off, pulls on his dry jacket and hangs your wet one up.

“You want my shirt?” He asks.

“What?”

“My shirt, and the spare pair of socks?” He holds them out, and you cup your hands.

You catch both, pull his shirt over yours, and then get to taking off your wet socks and shoes. Finnick pulls his own dry socks over his feet, but ignores his shoes. His lips are blue again, and you think that his ears are turning a different shade too. It’s a wonder how he isn’t freezing all the time.

He goes ahead and sets out the bowls again, rice and fish. He dumps in some water, and then places them next to this fire. Finnick seems to have a routine. After he gets the bowls out, he drops in iodine into the water bottles, shakes them, and then sets them aside.

He picks the scales off the fish for a while, not saying anything. You ring out your hair, doing your best not to get it into the fire. With how wet your jeans are, you’re sitting in a puddle of water. It’s going to take forever for it to lighten up.

Finnick yawns, and then looks over to you, “Anything hurting? It’s easier to ask now, since you’re awake.”

“How many times did you talk to yourself while I was out?”

“Too many.” He smiles.

You do too, “I’m fine. It only hurt when I got up.”

“Obviously.” Finnick says, “I don’t think we’ll be getting anymore sponsor gifts. We’re down to the final four.”

“And of course it has to be Trink and Lennox.” You shake your head, “Kind wish it was Allio and Eytelle.”

“Why?” Finnick asks.

You breathe out a laugh, “They were the weak ones, compared to Trink and Lennox. Even I’m better than them.”

“Well, you’re alive. And they were dumb enough to get killed by you… you did say both of them, right? Tell me everything you’ve done so far. I never got to ask.”

You sigh, because you don’t want to relive every single person you’ve killed. But go ahead and tell him it all in vague detail anyway. You pay special attention to the times you watched Lennox and Trink take out other tributes, which was mainly during the bloodbath. You didn’t get to watch either of them kill Blaire.

Finnick seems particularly interested in how you killed the boy from Eleven, Horae, and he almost can’t believe it, “You’re telling me that little old you—“

“Okay!”

“—managed to take down him?”

“It was easy and you’re not going to believe me.”

“I don’t believe you now!” He laughs, but listens anyway. He seems impressed, and every now and then, he’ll pitch in to tell you what cannons belonged to him.

By the time you reach the first time you went to the pond with Allio, you two have narrowed down a lot of people. You tell him that you ended up killing the thirteen year old boy from Twelve. And he tells you that it’s okay, because he got the girl a day or so later.

Somewhere in the middle, you two begin to eat, and don’t go for more. Finnick is obviously tired, so you wrap it up as much as you can without leaving out details. The only time you get gory again, is when Lennox tried to kill you. Finnick agreed that Blaire had died for you, and then you’re left with the sound of rain and rushing water.

“I’ll take watch. You go ahead and sleep. I’ve had plenty of time.”

“Are you sure?” He asks.

You nod, “I’ll wake you if anything important happens.”

“Thanks.” He cleans up, sets everything into the backpack and passes a water bottle off to you. He tells you to let the fire die out, hands over the knife, and then curls up into his sleeping bag. He zips it up to his chin, rolls over onto his side. And within seconds, he’s asleep.

He must’ve been watching over you during the night while you’ve been out. You don’t blame him for being exhausted. At some point, you figure that since he isn’t actually awake anymore, it won’t hurt to shed your wet jeans, since it’s beginning to make you colder. 

You squeeze out the water, and lay them out next to the fire to dry. After that, it’s just a waiting game. You rub your thighs to keep them warm, and never your hands around the fire. You’re cold, but this is not nearly as bad as what some tributes have gone through.

The rain seems to lighten up sometime during the night. You somehow manage to get your semi-dry jeans on without causing a ruckus. The Stone where you’ve been sitting for hours has dried, and the fire is running on embers. You sit on your sleeping bag now, away from the mist of the waterfall, and continue to watch. 

The sun comes up, it’s warped through the waterfall. The rain seems to be continuing, but it’s not as monstrous as before. Finnick gets up on his own, and insists for you to sleep while he’s out. Before he leaves, he asks if he should be worried about Lennox or Trink coming up this way.

“If they were smart, they should have been in the shack, which is a day’s walk from here. We should be fine.”

“Oh.” Finnick says, and then straightens up, “Oh, so the cornucopia is empty?”

You can see the gears turning in his head, “I wouldn’t test it.”

“How are you feeling?”

You shake your head, “If we get caught in a fight, I’d be worthless.”

Finnick shrugs, “Like you aren’t now? At least then you’ll be able to stretch your legs. Let’s apply more healing stuff and get the hell out of here.”

Of course he’s not listening. You can’t really complain, because it’s a good opportunity. If you’re wrong though, the both of you are dead. You apply the healing cream, and while Finnick is doing this, he promises as soon as the two of you get back, you’re free to sleep.

He shows you what he does when it comes to leaving the cave. You roll up your jeans, and take off your socks and shoes. Your jacket is fairly dry, so you pull that on. What’s left is finding a place for all your stuff. The canteen gets placed beneath your jacket, knife tucked into your belt. Finnick grabs a hold of his trident, and your sword, and then moves through the waterfall.

Again, there is no jacket on him. After you get through the waterfall, you watch him go through the water. It’s only knee-deep, so your jeans shouldn’t get too wet if they’re pulled to your thighs. You take your time with moving through, since the water is resistant, and you’re not the strongest person alive at the moment.

Finnick gets his socks and shoes on before helping you. Then, he stops, “Can I get my shirt back?”

“Oh, sure.”

Once he’s comfortable, and you are too, you bring him through the woods and towards the cornucopia, since you’ve got the path down more than he does. He says that he hasn’t been to the cornucopia since the first day, and he didn’t really plan on coming back.

But if you think that there’s no one there, you two might as well try. In half an hour, you’ve made it. You bring him around the trees and to the front so you two can look into it, while also being concealed. And lo and behold, it’s empty.

“Go.” You tell him, and the two of you move across the sand and into the cornucopia.

The sand is wet from how much water has been coming through the arena. It’s easy to walk through, despite it squishing beneath your shoes. Finnick says that he’ll take watch, you just have to find everything that he lists. You agree. You know the cornucopia better than he does.

You grab a new backpack, and slowly move through the boxes. He wants more shirts and jackets and extra jeans. You can only do so much, getting about half of it, while also throwing in a couple of pairs of socks. He wants dry food, you do your best. It looks like Trink and Lennox have gone through the bulk of it.

While you’re going through, you’re piling everything else into the middle of the building. Finnick doesn’t say anything about it for a while, until he’s watching you toss out the medical stuff, too, “What are you doing?”

“We’re going to set it on fire.” You tell him, “If we can’t have most of it, then they can't either. And what are they going to do about it? Nothing. They’re miles away.”

He laughs, liking the idea. You fill up two backpacks before you two have called it good. Finnick takes them both, since they’re heavy, and he’s in the best shape. You dig through the boxes until you find a fire starter. It takes a couple of tries, and you’re sure that it’s not going to light because of the rain.

But then a shirt catches on fire, and it’s downhill from there. You dump in some more rubbing alcohol, and the flames spread. You laugh, backing up towards Finnick. Lennox and Trink might be pissed now, but it’s going to be worse when they see they have nothing left. In the middle of the pile is the dried food that they must have been saving.

You and Finnick don’t stick around after that. You bring him right back around towards the waterfall. You’re sure that he’s going to make you carry everything inside yourself and go to do whatever he wanted to do earlier, but he’s going inside.

He starts up a fire as soon as the two of you get inside, with the new backpacks leaned up next to the first one. He seems happy, there’s a smile on his face while he gets the room warm again, “Go ahead and sleep now, (Y/n).”

You don’t argue, sliding into your sleeping bag. He zips it up like he did the first time, and you have no time to complain about your wet clothes. With the fire going, and the eventual warmth of the sleeping bag, you’re cozy and tired in no time.

The next time you wake up, it’s to Finnick’s cold hand placed against your forehead. When he realizes that he woke you up, he pulls his hand away, “Are you feeling okay.”

“Yeah.” You yawn.

“Are you sure?”

As you get to sitting up, unzipping the sleeping bag while you’re at it, you can’t seem to think of what he means. You feel fine, you’ve got a headache, but you had one yesterday. Today’s just feels a little worse, and it’s probably because of what Lennox did.

“Just a headache.”

Finnick nods, “Okay, well, your forehead is hot so,” he digs through the first aid kit and pulls out a small bottle. When he shakes it, it rattles. Dumping the contents into his hands, it’s pills, “Fever pills.”

“Oh, sure.” you hold out your hand, and he drops two in. After you take them, he feeds you. You eat less than you did last night for dinner.

Finnick’s asking if you’re hungry anymore, and you’re shaking your head, “Maybe you’ll be hungry later. You did just wake up. Are you still tired?”

“Not really.”

“Alright, well I’m going to take a nap so I can take watch tonight. You think you’ll be okay?”

You give him a look, “Yes, Finnick.”

He laughs, and curls up inside of his sleeping bag. You get back to sitting up against the wall. The fire is going, so you’re still pretty warm. You press your hand to your forehead as if you’ll be able to tell if you’re hot or not, but there’s no giveaway. You feel like you normally do.

You trust Finnick. He’s brought you this far, why would he kill you now? You’re just curious how he knew that you’ve got a fever going. It couldn’t have been obvious, right?

A couple of hours pass of you sitting up, staring into the fire, trying to keep it going because of how cold you are. You keep an eye on the supply of sticks that you’re using. You saw that Finnick had picked up a lot of them on the way back here after the cornucopia. He’s got the sticks laid out to dry, and you’re sure that they’re pretty damp still.

You give up on the fire, daring to scoot only so much closer and you curl up inside of your sleeping bag. The longer you lay there, the more you feel tired after all. You decide to give Finnick as much time as you can offer before waking him up. He doesn’t seem mad, only puzzled.

You eat a little more of the fish and the remaining rice before calling it good. The two of you work together to clean your stomach wound again, and Finnick doesn’t want to just let you lay down after that.

“There’s something wrong, (Y/n). How much do you normally eat?” Finnick says, “Because like three quarters of rice and fish is not enough. And it’s a small bowl.”

You shrug, “I’m not that hungry.”

“Except you should be, and you know this. I can see it in your face.” Finnick says, falling back, he criss crosses his legs, “You were asleep for three and a half days, and ate only two bowls, you should be starving right now.” he pauses, “You’re sick, I know it.”

“How could I be sick?”

“Maybe the weather,” he says.

“But it would have settled in by now, right?”

“Okay, the thing is, it has. You have a fever, you’re not eating much, what else? You said you have a headache? That’s the start of a cold, I think.”

You don’t say anything. You’d like to say that it’s not a big deal, and you’ll wait it out. Until you remember that it’s the Hunger Games and nothing is ever what it seems.

“What’s in the first aid?”

“Bandages and fever pills. I don’t think there’s painkillers or anything.”

“What about the stuff I grabbed from the cornucopia?”

He’s shaking his head, digging through your supply. It’s not much, nothing that would keep you from getting sick. If you are coming down with a cold, you’ll have no choice but to fight through it. Finnick said it himself, there’s no chance of sponsors anymore. Not with four tributes left in the games.

You press your hand to your forehead, sighing, “I’ll take two more fever pills, then. And we’ll see how I am tomorrow morning.” 

“Or later tonight.” he says, but hands them over, “Let’s replace the bandage while we’re at it.”

“Sure.” you agree.

You take the pills, and he pulls the new bandage off as fast as he can. Your skin hurts around the area, as it will. But there’s not much you can do about it. You put on the new bandage, and Finnick insists on you drinking water and forcing the last bit of food down.

After that, you’re being tucked right back into the sleeping bag. When you complain about being cold, Finnick throws a blanket over the top of the sleeping bag to help. It doesn’t do much at all, but after a while, you begin to feel something.

Finnick says that he’s going to go and get more wood, because at this rate, you’re going to be through the supply in no time. You try to apologize, but he shrugs you off and leaves. You spend a while staring at the ceiling, thinking about how miserable it’s going to be to survive while you’re sick.

You’re going to be weak, and since your immune system is already battling a lot when it comes to your almost-closed stomach wound, broken ribs and who knows what else, it’s not going to take a lot to kill you. At this point, something as simple as blood poisoning will kill you.

You guess that all it takes is one major event to spin the games on someone. You were doing so well, until you killed Allio. Two days later, you’re being beaten to near-death. And then again, things turned when Finnick found you, and now you’re sick. It’s a never-ending rotating platform for you.

It sucks too. You’re on the last burst of the games, and you’ve come down with a cold? Out of all things to get, you’ve got an illness that is typically curable at home. How pathetic. Talk about an unpredictable ending, you’ve never seen someone die of a runny nose.

It’ll be a first, and it’ll be sad. Unless Finnick or your sponsors can somehow muster up something to get you back in, you’re going to slowly die. Oh, and you can't even imagine the looks your brothers will get, years after you die. (Y/n) Gallows, fifteen years old, scored a ten, got into the career pack, killed five tributes and then died of a cold.

A smile slowly spreads over your face, before a snort comes from you. It hurts, especially in your abdomen, but who cares anymore? It’s going to hurt until you win. In the Capitol, they’ll fix everything wrong with you. Maybe even the brain damage too, considering that you’re laughing at your own demise.

Or maybe it’s the hysteria. It’s hard to tell anymore. 

You fall asleep before Finnick comes back from gathering more wood. 

In the morning, you can’t bring yourself to sit up in the sleeping bag when Finnick wants you to eat. The thought alone makes you gag, and a wave of nausea settles in afterward. He tries to ask for you to take fever pills if you’re not going to eat then, since your forehead is hot enough to cook anything on it. But the idea of anything going down your throat is a no.

On the contrary to your very hot forehead, is your very cold body. No matter how many times Finnick places a new blanket on top of you, or readjusts to make it easier to feel, it does nothing. You’re still cold, your teeth are still chattering, and you’re shivering. Finnick suggests the idea of getting into the sleeping bag with you, because of his body heat.

Until he realizes that it’s not the body heat that’s the problem. It’s the fact that your body thinks it’s cold. You’re sick, it doesn’t matter how many blankets, or who lies next to you, you’re always going to be cold. So, he settles for watching over you for a while, going back and forth on things.

He comes back over, pressing the back of his hand against his forehead, he pales. He presses his lips together for a while, opens his mouth like he’s going to speak, and then closes it again. A frown forms over his face, and he pulls his knees to his chest, staring into the fire. You watch the flames dance in his eyes.

It doesn’t take a genius to know that you aren’t getting any better. You can feel it yourself. He was right last night, he knew that you’d only get worse. But it’s not like either of you have much of a choice. Your mentors are done with sponsored gifts, there’s four tributes left in the games. What could buy a whole feast and then some on the first day, will buy you a packet of crumbs today.

And that’s just for food, it only gets worse with the more important things, like weapons and food. They gave Finnick's trident at the perfect time. Had they waited, he would have nothing but a knife to defend himself with. You’re sure he could learn the sword, because anyone can learn anything, but he won’t be good at it. Not as good as you are.

You have only a couple of options, and none of them are good. You can wait it out, the sickness you mean, and hope that it’ll go away in a couple of days. Normally when you get sick back home, it’s a gradual thing, it’ll hit the dip, and then go right back up. But if this is day… two? Three? You can’t imagine what the future will be like.

Because despite not doing anything this entire morning, not even sitting up, you’re exhausted. If you really wanted, you could just close your eyes and fall asleep. Even with the pain in your stomach, and the raging headache that’s going on inside your head. The slightest movement of your arms for gesturing, will have you aching.

So, waiting it out isn’t the best option, and neither is banking on a sponsor gift to save your life. And if waiting it out won’t kill you, the gamemakers boredom will. When there’s nothing going on inside the arena, they start to get creative. And you’ve seen what their idea of creative is, multiple, multiple times.

However, it’s not all bad. So far, every year, the gamemakers have introduced something called The Feast. It normally takes place in the cornucopia, and it doesn’t necessarily have to be food. The gamemakers normally choose something that the tributes need, which could be anything.

It could be food, when the food in the arena is getting scarce. You’ve watched tributes in the past fight over an apple. Something so small, but the tributes were all desperate for anything to eat. Or, it could be weapons, for the tributes that couldn’t get anything during the bloodbath. When they do that, though, it typically introduces a second bloodbath.

They would have done that earlier in the games, though. When there are about ten tributes or less left in the games. It’s to speed up the process of the tributes dying, and offer entertainment. Most of the time, the gamemakers don’t announce what’s going to be at the Feast, they just say it’s going to happen.

There’s also medicine, something that you need. You’ve hardly seen them do anything with it before. Not only is it expensive, but the chances of one of the other tributes needing it is low. Unless Finnick is also sick, and he’s not showing symptoms just yet. Unless Lennox and Trink are sick, of course.

Because you could very well be sick because of the bacteria in the pond water. With how deep and dirty the water was, and later the mutt coming around. And you were eating the fish you were catching too, so there’s plenty of reasons for you to be sick because of it. It takes a while for bacteria to really kick in, but then again, the gamemakers could have released one that was way beyond mutated.

And with that logic, it would mean you haven’t been cleaning your water correctly. Which isn’t true at all, you’ve been following what the survival expert told you on the first day. Five drops of iodine for every quart of water, and extra if you think the water is bad, and you let it sit for thirty minutes after.

You’ve been in charge of water since the first day, basically. And actually, now thinking about it, Trink and Lennox should’ve gotten sick earlier on, if it’s that case. The first day, they gulped down the water without waiting the recommended amount of time. So something isn’t right.

The only time you’ve stopped being in charge of water, is when Finnick has been taking care of you. He’ll clean the water, and give it back to you. And you’re sure it can’t be desintry either, since your insides would be turned inside out by now. You and the others have been careful where you do your business.

So, it only leaves one real option, which seems so far away with the condition you’re in. You win the Hunger Games with Finnick. If you win, it’s an automatic ticket to the medical center. The Capitol will do everything they can to fix you back to what you looked like before the games. No broken nose, no broken ribs, no stab wound, no sickness. Pristine condition. Although, they can’t do much when it comes to the weight you’ve lost in here.

If you had thought of that idea yesterday, you’d be so on top of it. But right now, you can’t even sit up, let alone think straight most of the time. You’d rather just stay here and not push yourself anymore than you have to. One bad move and you might as well end up dead.

Then again, it’s not like you have much of a choice. It’s end the games today or tomorrow, or be at the mercy of the gamemakers. And honestly, at this point, you’re not sure if you need anything else from them. You’ve come across more than your fair share of mutts, it doesn’t need to happen again.

“List your symptoms.” Finnick asks, “Please.”

You close your eyes, it’s hard to think with your head throbbing so badly, but you do your best, “Fever, stomach pains, headache, not hungry, aches, chills and tired.”

It sounds like any other cold. But there’s something wrong with this one. You’ve missed something down the line. You haven’t been around anyone that’s sick, recently. Blaire, Lennox and Trink all drank the same water you did. And none of them got sick, and they weren’t acting like they had a cold, either. You got sick after Finnick found you.

Maybe it’s the freezing temperature of the cave? That can get someone sick, right? Except, all the times back home, with no heater or AC never got you sick, it was always someone from school that would give it to you. And you’d end up in bed for days, with nothing nearly as bad as this.

Okay, so maybe it’s not a cold either. The incubation is well past its due date. What else can it be?

Fish, possibly. If it’s undercooked or if it has bacteria on it--which is killed by the heat. Of course, you can eat fish raw, but you always got sick because of it, and learned your lesson after the third time. So, now you make a point of cooking your food thoroughly, and if that means burning it, then so be it. You haven’t eaten anything raw in the arena, not even the squirrels.

Another thing knocked off the list. You said this happened after Finnick found you, so maybe he is asymptomatic? It makes a little bit of sense, since no matter how many times he goes through the cold, waterfall water, he never really shows how cold he is. His lips turn a purplish-blue, but that happens to everyone.

And he would have at least one symptom, right? God, you don’t know. He’s the one that went through all the survival stuff, shouldn’t he be thinking about this more than you? When you open your eyes and look at him, there’s a crease between his eyebrows, and he’s definitely got a thinking look on his face. It’s nice to know that he’s at least trying.

You can’t really be mad at him, though. You’re the one that’s sick, you know your body better than he does. The best you’re doing right now is narrowing down the possibilities, maybe if you get down to it, you’ll feel better. Because at least knowing the sickness is better than dying to an unknown illness.

If it’s not food, because you refuse to eat raw fish--or raw anything, actually. Then that means it’s water. The bacteria has to come from somewhere. You wash your hands beneath the waterfall each time before you eat, and you dry them on the shirt so the water isn’t getting anywhere.

There has to be an instance where Finnick didn’t properly clean the water, then. As far as you know, you’ve watched him clean the water, the only exception being when you’re sleeping. But you’re not consuming water while you’re sleeping, so it can’t be any of those times. Before that.

Yesterday you had two bottles, both had been waited thirty minutes for. The first one was when you had left the cave with Finnick to go down to the cornucopia, you filled up a canteen, and it wasn’t until later into the walk when you finally began drinking. And later when you had come back, Finnick filled them up again, and you didn’t drink it until later that night.

And then there’s the day you woke up. You remember drinking down two of them before giving your body a break. The first one was fresh, Finnick had just gathered it. You watched him drop the iodine into it, though, and he shook it and set it aside for later. The second one had been in the backpack for who-knows how long.

“Help me sit up.” you say, and Finnick moves without question. He pushes the blankets off, and unzips the bag. Then, he’s carefully guiding you upright.

The headache seems to worsen for a moment because now the blood is rushing. But you ignore it for a moment, closing your eyes and pressing your face into your hands. In the two and a half days you’ve been awake, when did you drink unclean water? Or maybe you weren’t awake for it? Finnick said he’d been trying to keep you hydrated.

It’s not right, you don’t think it happened while you were asleep. You were just fine on that first day. You would have had a fever if it had happened then, and with how you were just getting into your problem yesterday, it had to have been the first day. Which bottle, though? 

The first one you drank, or the second one? The first was from the waterfall, the second probably from the lake. The second one tasted just fine though, and it would have been long past the clean date. As for the first one, it had just been taken out. The harder you squeeze your eyes, the more you see white spots.

Oh. Oh, wait. It has to be the first one. It was fresh from the waterfall, he dropped the iodine droplets into the canteen, and then you got up and distracted him from waiting. He handed that canteen over like it was nothing, and you were so thirsty that you hadn’t even thought to wait.

“Okay, well, it’s a water bacteria.” you tell him, he lifts his head, “I don’t know the name of it just yet, but really, all untreated bacteria can be deadly.”

He pales, again, and hums as an answer. He seems lost in his head for a moment, and you let it be. At least you’ve traced where it began and have a basic idea of what it is. All that’s left to do, is find a way to survive it, and make sure you don’t give into it anymore.

And like you said, the only real option that you have is to finish off the Hunger Games. Make that last push, and then you can give into it. It won’t be your job to make sure you live anymore, your life will be in the hands of the Capitol. And considering that they won’t let their victor’s die, you’re okay with that.

“Fever pills and water.” you brush some of Finnick’s hair out of his face.

He makes you sit against the cold wall before moving to grab you food and such. You pull a blanket around your back and over your shoulders. Finnick hands over the water and pills, and you take them without complaint, closing your eyes and breathing deeply through your nose. Before you know it, it’s sliding down your throat.

You give Finnick the go ahead to warm up what’s left of the rice and mashed fish. You want to make it as painless as possible, so chewing a little and swallowing before your mind can tell you to stop.

“Do you know when you got it?” he asks.

You nod, and he waits for you to answer. You know that he has an idea of when you could have gotten it, already. He’s just waiting for you to confirm it, and you’re not really sure if you want to. He shouldn’t feel guilty because of it, you didn’t catch it either. But then he’ll say that he was the one thinking straight, he’s been taking care of you for a couple of days straight, he shouldn’t have gotten distracted like that.

You look Finnick right in the eyes and say; “It’s not your fault, Finn. We both weren’t thinking straight, let it go. I forgive you.”

“You shouldn’t.” he mutters.

“You saved me, you know that?” you ask him, he’s staring into the fire again, “I owe you.”

Finnick shakes his head, “No, you don’t. I might have brought you out of the storm, but you’re sick because of the water, don’t you see that? It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not.”

“(Y/n), please.” he whispers, “Stop.”

You don’t push it any further. He’s wrong, and you hope he knows that now. You eat the food without complaint, even though you feel grosser with each bite you take. You turn down a second bowl, since you know you won’t be able to get that one down without a fight. It’s good enough for you, though.

“We need to get a move on, before the careers come around.” you tell him, and he looks over, confused.

“You couldn’t even sit up on your own.”

“So?” you ask, “Give me the backpacks.”

“We should stay here.”

“The careers are going to come up here, Finnick. As soon as they realize what we did with the rest of their supplies, their hunt begins. Trust me, I know.” you motion for the backpacks again, and he finally gives them over to you.

Five spare shirts, three jackets, plenty of socks, no spare jeans. There’s one hat--a beanie--that doesn’t look very thick. Finnick tells you that the outside is still drizzling, not a storm, not full-on rain, drizzle. It’ll be manageable to walk in, but this also means that it’s going to be fairly cold out there after you walk through the waterfall.

You’ve got three knives. One for Finnick, two for you, and your respective weapons, the trident and sword. Endless medical stuff that you don’t even think you need anymore at this point. Your stomach isn’t as open as it was when you first got stabbed. But that’s just surface stuff, who knows what’s going on underneath the skin?

It’s not bad stuff. You’ve even got fish that could last you a couple of days. Without saying anything to Finnick, you unpack all three backpacks, and then begin to fix it. You tuck the fish into a single sheet of plastic, and then use one of the shirts on top of that to secure them. You place it at the bottom with the four canteen bottles. You fold each shirt, jacket, and pair of socks. 

“What’s your plan?” Finnick asks.

“We leave now.” you say, and you can already see him objecting, but you don’t care. You struggle to take off your first shoe and sock, and then give him a look for the second. He doesn’t want to give in, and the two of you stare at each other for a long time, and then he gives in. You tuck both into the backpack that you’ll be carrying.

“The rest of it, please. You can’t just say that and expect me to follow blindly, I’m not a child.” He’s following your example, seems like he’s contradicting himself.

“Here’s what I’m thinking: if I’m like this today, I’m going to be worse tomorrow. There is no medicine on the way, so it’s already out of the question.” You fold two blankets, placing them in Finnick’s bag, “We pack everything, set the rest on fire, and head to the cornucopia to see if Trink and Lennox have made it back, yet.

“It’ll help decide what to do next. If they’re not there, we wait. If they are, then we move immediately, toward the shack in the woods. It’s at least a day’s walk, but since we don’t have that time, we’ll move quicker. You give me a head start, set it on fire, and run to join me at the next place, which we’ll find out.”

“What are we doing?” His tone alone, tells you that he thinks it’s a dumb idea. 

“Leading them out and away from the space they’re comfortable with.” you say, “They don’t like it out there. After Eytelle got ripped apart by the bear mutts, they’ve been freaked out since. They’re not going to like chasing us, but they will. They have no choice.

“If they’re at the cornucopia already, they’re going to be uber pissed. They’ll probably search the part of the woods that I directed them away from, which is over here. They’re like an angry bee’s nest, except they’ll keep stinging until they’re dead. One glance of us is all it takes, they’ll chase us around the arena, and I can tell you that we’ll get tired first.”

You roll up your jeans, when you lean forward, you wince, hissing. You have to stop, breathing heavily to get the pain to go away. Finnick does it for you, tucks his things into the backpack. He gets you to your feet first, and putting a backpack on your back. When you put on the jacket, you have the back around the backpack to keep it from getting wet. You zip it up to your neck, and pull the hood over the top.

“Burn these?” Finnick asks, motioning to the sleeping bags, spare blankets and backpack. You nod.

He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. He gives you your sword to lean against like a cane, and grabs his trident. Then, he’s kicking everything into the fire to make sure that it burns up. Finnick holds you up with one arm around your sides through the waterfall to keep you from toppling over, he doesn’t let go until you’re on the other side.

After that, the backpacks come off. He rolls your jeans down, helps you put on two pairs of socks and then your shoes. You struggle a bit when it comes to the extra shirt, since it’s not easy at all to raise your arms above your head. You want to give up halfway through, your ribs are stabbing you and the stretching is doing nothing for your stomach.

But if you can’t even put on something as simple as a shirt, then how are you going to end the games? After the shirt, Finnick helps you with both jackets. While he’s putting on his clothes, you struggle to pull your hair out of the ponytail. You’re raising your arms above your head, your hair is wet and tangled, and you’re trying not to act like a baby about it.

Once your hair is semi-good again, Finnick secures the beanie over your head and ears, and then motions for you to lead the way to the cornucopia. You make sure that your knife is in it’s regular spot first, and then lean on the sword, using it as a walking stick through the woods.

“Explain the plan again.” Finnick says.

You nod, “We check out the cornucopia first to figure out where Trink and Lennox are. If they’re at the cornucopia, then we move on to the shack. If they aren’t, we start another fire and bring them the rest of the way.”

When Finnick left the waterfall this morning, he said that the smoke was nothing but a memory. There was no evidence of a fire at all, which means that the rain put it out, or the fire wasn’t as big as it started off. Yesterday, is a different story. Dark grey smoke was pillaging into the sky, an obvious indicator that something was wrong.

You’re pretty sure that as soon as Trink and Lennox saw, they went running. It’s the last bit of their supplies. Clothes, medical supplies, food, weapons. Everything that they could possibly need to outlast you and Finnick, and now it’s on fire. They’re going to be pissed, you know it.

You think that you’re better off than them right now. Maybe not health-wise, but with supplies? They’re not coming close by a long shot. You noticed that Lennox and Trink have a tendency to use up the bulk of what they hold onto, and rely on the backup stuff from the boxes for comfort.

It’s why you set it all on fire.

“What’s next?” Finnick asks.

“The shack is a while into the woods, but they’ll be desperate to kill us because of how mad they are. We set the shack on fire, which is a second shelter that we found, and move in as far as we can. You see that cliff?” You’re pointing to it, Finnick has to cover his eyes when he looks up to see because of the rain, “That’s our destination. We have the rest of today and a little bit of tomorrow to get there.

“They should be chasing us all the way over there. We set up a trap during the night, ambush them later that afternoon after setting a second fire.” You pause, there’s a smile forming over your face, “And then we win and go home.”

Finnick’s got a smile too, “Sounds simple.”

“Expect complications.” You tell him, “There’s a ton that can go wrong, so you’ve got to be thinking that out for me.”

“Can’t do it for yourself?”

You shrug, pausing for a moment, “At some point, I’m going to get delirious. I won’t be able to think straight. You’ve got to be my net.” You look at him, “Which you are more than capable of doing.”

“Does that mean I can be honest?” You two resume walking, you nod a little bit, “The plan is dangerous and unreliable.”

“If you’ve got another idea, I’m all ears.”

“Why not kill them here?” He asks, “Sneak up and kill them?”

You press your lips together, the smile is widening. Didn’t you say it yourself a long time ago? Back when you were in the Capitol? You’re all puppets for them, and they want a good show. You can think for yourself, but in the end, they’re going to want something better.

“Because that’s not very fun of us.” You say, and he seems to understand, you think. He doesn’t push it, and a comfortable silence settles between you two on your speed walk to the cornucopia.

It doesn’t take nearly as long as you thought it would. In no time, you’re spotting the silver building in the middle of the sand clearing. The closer you get, the more you’re able to see that the pile you created yesterday, is nothing but black charcoal and ash. 

And lucky enough for you, the two of you won’t be wasting any time waiting for the other two to come along. They’re already here, standing over the pile. You and Finnick are already pretty deep into the tree line, but you back up some more, careful not to make too much noise.

You were right, as you normally are. They’re pissed, Lennox is gesturing wildly at the pile, and Trink has her hands on the back of her head. You don’t keep around to watch what they do. This is good enough for you. You and Finnick make a wide circle, and keep on the right side, next to the cliffs.

You expect that they’re going to be taking the path they’re most comfortable with, which is the one that passes by the pond. You two have a head start on them, so you hope that they won’t be catching up anytime soon.

“What’s the first thing you’re going to do when you get home?” Finnick asks, you snort.

“Probably throw a party in my tiny house. What about you?”

“Join you at that party, hopefully.” Finnick says, and then he looks at you, “We are friends again, right?”

You deadpan, “You don’t want to hear this, but you’re the one that should be mad at me.”

“Oh, right.” He says, and then laughs, “Yeah, we’re friends again. Which means you can’t be annoyed at me anymore.”

“I wouldn’t say that, you barged in my room.”

“I was already there, it’s not like I was interrupting something.” He rolls his eyes.

You shake your head, “Actually, I think you did. I was going to take a cold shower to clear my head, and you were just there.”

“Bad timing, then.”

“It’s always bad timing.”

Finnick takes over the conversation after that, it’s a nice distraction from the stabbing pain in your stomach each time you take a step. You try to even out your answers and think before you speak, most of the time. Finnick doesn’t seem to mind, as long as you’re responding. 

Even though you don’t want to, you begin to direct you and Finnick towards the pond, beginning to recognize the cliffs. You haven’t been to the shack since the first couple of days, so it’s going to be a little struggle to remember the exact way, but you’ll get there.

It would be nice to set the shack on fire, but it’s not a requirement. You can start a fire almost anywhere, it’s just that the shack will eliminate another shelter. They’ll have no choice but to sleep in the cold rain, just like how you and Finnick will be. 

“Keep away from the hole.” You tell Finnick once you see it.

“You keep calling it a pond, it’s a hole?”

“Force of habit. The pond drained a while ago, it’s just a hole in the ground. You flak in it, you die a slow death. Don’t go near it, because I don’t know if I can fish you out.” You say.

“We have a rope.” Finnick jokes.

At the pond, you and Finnick take a small break. With how fast you’re walking, you’re tiring yourself out, as for Finnick, he’s Finnick. You’re sick, with two layers on, and a backpack and sword to drag along. You’re not doing so hot. But no matter what happens, you don’t sit down.

The break only lasts about five minutes before the two of you are moving on. You divert to the left again, hoping that Lennox and Trink left tracks to the shack, but you can’t find anything, and neither does Finnick. So, you have to wing it most of the way, there’s no choice.

The silence isn’t filled. It’s just the two of you walking. You listen for any voices or extra footsteps, but there is nothing. Finnick’s constantly checking behind you two, to be sure. You gave him the job of being your second pair of eyes and brain, and he’s doing it well.

For now, you try to figure out what the illness is called. Because the more you think over the symptoms, the more it becomes unbearably familiar. You’ve seen it before, you’re sure of it. You just don’t think it’s happened to your family directly. If it was you, you’re sure that you would remember, same thing goes for your brothers.

This just makes it all the more worse. It can’t be Finnick, or any of your school friends. Can’t be anyone from The Square, or their family if they mentioned it in passing. It leaves only Naida’s family, but that doesn’t seem right, either. They’re always careful with their water.

The more you think about it, the more your headache cranks up. You have to be getting close, when’s the last time anyone from Naida’s family was sick? It wasn’t during this winter, so maybe a few years back? God, it feels like it’s on the tip of your tongue.

No, not a few years. Only the winter before the last, you remember now. Naida has gathered snow from outside because it’s free water, she didn’t think anything would be wrong with it. And her kids are normally smart enough not to mess with anything in the kitchen without asking.

However, one of the boys, Taren, had stuck his hand into the pot and took out a handful. Without asking, he ate all the snow, and weeks later, was developing the same symptoms you have. The difference between you and him, is the fact that it took a while to settle in. With you? Two days, tops.

He wasn’t able to see the doctor for a while, and only got worse. He was the only one that had eaten the unboiled snow, and honestly, Naida just thought he had the flu. She placed him in a room all by himself so he wouldn’t get the rest of the house sick—her, her husband, and the three other people in the house, not counting Calandra because she moved out. 

It wasn’t until he developed the rash, when she finally decided that there was something wrong. The illness has a patchy kinda rash, red with small dots. When the doctor saw him, Taren, he knew immediately, because Taren wasn’t the first to be diagnosed with it. It’s deadly if you wait too long, like any bacterial virus. And if the gamemakers allowed it to mutate, it’s working faster than the regular virus.

But what’s the name of it? You grit your teeth and glare at your feet. Taren only had it for a few days, with the right medicine, it was gone quickly. There’s not normally a lot of cases in District Four, either. It happens around, you’ve heard it mentioned before, but you didn’t see it in action until Taren had it.

Oh, come on. You think you guys even had a nickname for Taren because of it. Something catchy, and it’s hardly ever used unless you’re purposely trying to make him mad. Starts with a T… t-something… As you go through the vowels in your head, you stop at i. Ti-Taren--Typhoid! 

You sputter out a laugh, glad to now know the name. There’s nothing you can do about it, but at least it won’t be eating away at the back of your head for the rest of the day.

“What is it?” Finnick asks.

“I know the name of it, even if it doesn’t make a difference. It’s Typhoid Fever, a water disease. I’ve only seen it once before, and it’s because of our family friends, the family next door, the Dorazio’s. They have a son named Taren, and one winter he ate bad snow and got sick because of it. They thought he had the flu, but it wasn’t spreading, so they knew it was something else.”

You look at Finnick, “He had rashes on his arms, the big giveaway. And it’s curable if you have the right medicine, goes away in a couple of days. Whatever the gamemakers had in that waterfall water is a mutated version of it. Horrible, works quickly, and it can very well kill me, but we’ll worry about that later. All that matters is what we’re doing now.”

“And you’re not even sure if it’s going to work.” Finnick says.

“Oh, it’ll work.” you say, “All you have to do is believe.”

“How cheesy.” he mutters, and then laughs to himself, “Is this the hysteria?”

“Haha.” you roll your eyes.

An hour later, you take another five minute break with Finnick. You’re starting to remember the path now, and you’re sure that it’s right around the corner. All you have to do is walk a little further. After the break, it’s another hour and a half before you’re seeing the shack through the trees. The sun is beginning to set, you can see the golden streams of the sunset through the leaves.

“Start the fire now, or wait?” Finnick asks, because the closer you get, the more you’re reconsidering to wait until later. But then they won’t see the smoke from the fire in the sky. You’ll have to rely on the light of the fire to lead them over, and that’s not very reliable.

“Now.” you tell him, “Take out the two blankets and set them inside. That’s going to be our starter.”

You stand outside of the door, watching the trees. Finnick confirms that it looks like Trink and Lennox had been staying inside of there during the storm. You cross your fingers and hope that another one won’t be happening anytime soon. Not only is the cave out of the question, but now the shack will be too.

Finnick lets you get a head start, since you won’t be able to move quickly. It’s only a couple of minutes before you hear him catching up, crunching all the leaves. There’s a grin on his face, and he’s obviously pleased with himself. You don’t dare to turn around to look at the damage until you’ve walked thirty minutes.

By then, the smoke has started to become noticeable. A second pillar, letting them know that the two of you were there. Now is just for the final part. You two will walk most of the night on your way to the cliffs, and then find a spot to hide for the night. In the morning, you finish the walk and set up the trap.

“Easy.” you tell him, and he seems pretty proud of himself too.

“What happens when a forest fire starts?” he asks.

“We let it burn.” you say.

The sun settles below the horizon, the sky turning a medium blue, before going navy. In no time, it’ll be black. You two walk a while longer, trying to put off eating food as long as you can. Hopefully Trink and Lennox have just started their trek to the shack, but there’s no telling if they’ve been walking all day towards it anyway.

You and Finnick hide behind a massive tree, deciding that it’s the best place to stop for the night. You’re pretty far away from the shack, you can’t even see the glow from the fire, which means that it’s a good thing you lit it on fire when you did, otherwise you would have screwed it up.

Finnick leans you up against the tree, the moment you’re sitting, you can feel the dull throb in your feet from walking all day. Your stomach hurts, your side hurts, but you weren’t given much of an option. It was walk all day or end up messing up your delicate plan.

Finnick keeps the fire relatively small, cooking the fish thoroughly. The two of you already have water, you refilled the canteens in the small stream on the way to the shack. The water is clean, and the two of you know this. You hydrate, and take more fever pills, which are getting low. You think that you’ll save the last couple for tomorrow.

You and Finnick eat quietly. He finishes a lot quicker than you do because you’re being careful with not triggering your gag reflex. When you’re sure that neither of you are hungry, he stomps out the fire and dumps a whole bottle of water onto it to make sure that nothing will be catching, and there will be no smell.

He makes you a bed in the leaves, and since it’s still raining lightly, the two of you have to get creative when it comes to blocking your face from the rain. No matter how many times you ask Finnick to be the one to sleep so that you can take watch, he shrugs you off. It’s always an automatic no.

“You’re the one that’s sick, remember?” he says, “You need it more than I do, I slept this morning, back at the cave for a few hours. We’ll be okay tonight.”

You don’t push it anymore, since he won’t even leave room for your argument. He helps you lay down into the grass, and places his spare jacket over your legs as an added blanket. It’s not warm by any means, and you’re sure that you’ll be waking up plenty of times during the night cold. But you thank him anyway.

The morning comes before you’re ready for it. Finnick is leaning over you, the back of his hand pressed to your forehead. The first thing he does is make you take the last three fever pills in the bottle, and drink water. And that’s before you’ve even sat up yet.

He refuses to help you do it, sitting back and watching. You’re annoyed, because it’s already obvious that you’re worse. Moving your arms is a struggle even more than it normally is. You get yourself up and onto your elbows first, and then get to your hands. You just barely get up and next to the tree, and don’t consider going further.

Your muscles ache, it’s not immediately painful, but the constant throbbing is making it hurt. You rest, drink water, and let Finnick clean up the camping spot before you get up to move with him. It’s just the last bit of the walk, and you tell yourself this over and over until you start to believe it.

It’s the final stages, you’re sure. Tomorrow, you’ll be dead or not movable. While yesterday seemed impossible, today is immeasurable to that. You’re not even sure if carrying the backpack on your back or using the sword as a cane is possible. But still, once Finnick’s ready to go, you force yourself to be ready, too.

“Let me help.” he begs, holding out his hand for you. There’s a look of guilt in his face, and some tears too, you think.

“You didn’t help earlier.” you snap, because what’s the point of making you do it alone earlier, if he’s just going to help you later? But when you look at him again, you see that your tone has taken its toll. 

You give him your hand, and let him carefully guide you to standing. He doesn’t let you go until you have the sword in your hand to lean on. And before you can even get it, Finnick’s pulling the second backpack over his shoulder. So, now not only is he running on a few hours of sleep from yesterday, he’s carrying two backpacks and the guilt of what the sickness has done.

You don’t bring it up, and you get to walking instead. You’re not nearly as fast as you were yesterday, which means that Lennox and Trink will get closer and closer. But with every thirty minutes that passes, you’re getting closer to the cliffs. What used to be so distant and grand from faraway, seems to hold true up close, too.

It’s another hour of walking before you have to take a break. You try to keep on your feet, but the moment you feel yourself tilting to the side, it’s over. Finnick just barely catches one of your hands, stomps on your foot to keep it in place, and carefully lowers you to the ground like that.

“We can stay here as long as you want.” he says, moving your hair out of your face. He presses his hand to your forehead again, but nothing has changed. You’re as hot as a furnace, and yet you’re so cold it’s not funny. You sit there for a couple of minutes before deciding it’s time to get a move on.

He helps you up, and wants to half-carry you as much as possible, but you tell him it’s not realistic. You keep with your sword, and promise him that the next break is around the corner. When in reality, you’re not considering it until the sun is in the middle of the sky. 

Thankfully, it’s around the same time you two make it around the cliffs. Finnick lays you down on your back, and you close your eyes. The world is spinning too quickly, and he needs to set up the trap before it’s too late. You do your best to keep awake, knowing that your words are slurring.

“Make it look like I died.” you tell him, “Take the spare clothes and stuff ‘em with leaves. Take the extras off of me, it’s not like they’re doing anything, anyway.”

Finnick frowns, but listens. He takes the hat to make it look like your head. He takes off both layers of your jacket, and slips a shirt off of you. He places one jacket back onto you, and then uses the other. The only real part left anymore is the pants and the shoes.

“What now?” Finnick asks, you turn your head in the direction lazily, expecting it to be far away, but it’s right next to you. It looks like he’s mirrored your position.

“Your jacket on the legs. One of us has to lose our shoes.”

He doesn’t say anything, laying the jacket where the legs should be, and then slipping off his shoes and a pair of socks with it. He stuffs them, and digs small holes to keep them in place. You can’t see it with how you’re laying down, so you struggle to sit up and look at your masterpiece. 

It might be the delirium that’s making you think this way, but it looks just fine to you. Now it’s time for the final part. You lay back in the leaves, letting the soft rain hit your face. You’re so tired, and you miss when Finnick asks a question the first two times around, so he kicks your shoe and jolts you awake.

“What?” you ask.

“The last part? You said there’s a last part?” he crouches down next to you, moving your hair out of your face. 

This vaguely reminds you of when you were dying near the waterfall. Only then, you were sure that it would be gruesome and painful for everyone back home. Healthy one minute, dead the next. But Finnick came along and saved you from that, even if you’re still recovering.

As for right now, this isn’t gruesome. It’s painful for sure, the headache, the blood rushing in your ears each time you move too much. The dizziness, the stomach and rib pain, your teeth from all the chattering, and your body temperature. However, unlike last time, you could die peacefully this time around.

“Walk about ten minutes from here, start a fire, and come running back. I’ll stay here and nap.”

“That’s not a good idea.” Finnick says, he’s frowning.

“Who cares?”

“I do. And as your second brain, I can’t agree to it. There has to be a better idea.”

“Ten minute walk.” you insist, “at least there, and then you can run back. Please, just ten minutes of sleep, Finnick? They shouldn’t be close.” you reach for his hand, and he lets you have it, “Please? It’s the last push. Just a little further, and we go home. Promise.”

He doesn’t like it, he wants to tell you no and move on. But instead, he shakes his head, sighs and sheds your backpack. He leaves it right next to you, as well as your sword. If anything were to happen, you could defend yourself if you move quick enough. 

“I’ll be back before you know it.” Finnick says.

“Walk.” you tell him, “Ten minutes, count it. Run back to me when you’re done. I’ll be here.”

He nods, doesn’t say anything else. You watch him disappear into the woods, and then rest your head back on the ground, closing your eyes. You don’t even stand a chance against the fatigue. 

It doesn’t feel like fifteen or so minutes when Finnick comes back. He’s looking a little rushed when he does. You want to ask him so many questions, but he’s not leaving room for it. He gets you onto your feet, gives you the sword, and throws the second backpack over his shoulder.

“We have to go.”

“Why?” you ask, not budging when he tries to pull you along.

“They’re here, they’re coming. I’m pretty sure they saw me. We have to go--’

“No, Finnick. This was the plan.” you motion, you’re feeling awake now. It has to be because of the prominent danger. You have to kill Lennox and Trink before they kill either of you, “I’ll stand here, you follow my directions. Take the backpack contents and scatter them like you were looking for something, go.”

You hand it off, and he listens. It’s mainly medical supplies, but they’re clean and have nothing on them. You and Finnick are sharing a dangerous look with each other, before he’s reaching for his knife to make a wound on himself. It’s bigger than he means it to be, and he bleeds all over what used to be the sanitary bandages, and your white jacket.

It looks like a murder scene.

“What next?” Finnick asks.

You can hear voices in the distance, shouting. It’s loud, the pounding of their feet against the leaves. They’re coming, time is up.

“Scream, loud. I’m dying, cry for me.” you tell him, “This is it, Finnick. Jump when they get too close.”

Before Finnick gets down onto his knees, in front of your fake body, he grabs your wrist and pulls you in. You’re about to ask him what the hell he’s doing, when he cups your face and presses a hard kiss on your lips. When he pulls away, he turns you around, and then heads straight for his part of the plan.  
You move quicker than you were during the walk here, positioning yourself behind the tree. Everything seems so surreal, like the last twenty-four hours didn’t just happen. You didn’t condense a ten day walk into one and a half. You didn’t just draw in two dangerous tributes to kill. Finnick didn’t just kiss you.  
You’re not on the brink of winning.

When Finnick doesn’t scream immediately, you want to move around the tree and scold him for it. But just as you twitch, he lets out the most blood-curdling scream that you’ve ever heard. Worse than what Eytelle had let out during her torture with the bear mutts. Finnick has topped them all.

You can feel your blood run cold because of it, actual chills running down your spine for once. The more you stand here, the more awake you become. You have to be ready for whatever walks around the corner. Tears gather in your eyes, you grit your teeth to keep them away.

And then you hear them, loud and clear.

“What’s the matter, Finnick?” It’s Trink’s voice, sickeningly sweet like she’s talking to a child. Another chill runs down your spine, you can’t imagine what Finnick is feeling right now.

“Go!” He sobs, you can feel the breath he takes in, in your own chest, “Leave me be!”

“Too late for that.” she says, “You’ve fucked up big time. Leading us on like this, a trail of fires? What did you think was going to happen?”

“You take him, I’ll finish off the girl.” Lennox says, you close your eyes for a moment, your heart is hammering in your chest.

“Don’t touch her.” Finnick says, his voice hardening out.

“You don’t get to make a decision like that.” Lennox says, and you can hear Finnick grunt. You wait until you hear the clink of his trident against Trink’s sword, and when it comes true, you whirl out from around the tree.

Lennox is over your body, sword prepared in his hand. He lifts it, going for the kill on your placebo body, until he spots you. You bring the sword up and above your right shoulder, like you’re swinging a baseball bat in P.E. Breathing heavily, you swing and try not to let the momentum knock you over.

He barely moves out of the way, stumbling. His eyes seem to light up at the sight of you, not half-dead after all. You know it’s because he’ll be able to make your death more interesting now. But you won’t be dying, not so close to the end. With Finnick fighting Trink, you’ve got Lennox all to yourself.

And personally, you think it’s time for a little bit of payback for the damage he did to your body.

“Still alive, huh?” Lennox asks, “Thought the stab would’ve killed you by now.”

“My sponsors actually like me.” you hiss, giving him a smile, “They sponsored me twice while I was out cold. What about you? Get anything for your troubles?”

His nostrils flare, jaw clenching as he swings his sword, hard. You catch it with yours, but with the force it hits, you have to catch your balance.

“Not looking too hot. Guess they didn’t like you that much.” he spits.

“No, it’s because the medicine will be useless once we win the games.” you say.

You swing at him now, and when the first doesn’t work, the second surely does. You catch his dominant upper arm, watching the crimson turn his blue shirt red. He’s not happy.

“I’m going to kill you, just like how I killed the boy from District Three. Beaten to death and spit on.”

“Try me.” you snarl.

The talk is over, and it’s clear. You try your best with fending him off, and at one point, when you take a swing for his legs, he stumbles over. It gives you plenty of time to back up and check on Finnick. He’s got the upperhand on Trink. They’re about the same height, but she’s got more muscle, still.

You’re able to watch her disarm him, but he does the same to her. It’s a standoff, and once she realizes this, she takes off running. Finnick goes after her, not even thinking about his weapon. You tilt your head, and see three weapons glinting in the sun. He’s out of a knife, too.

With one eye on Lennox, you continue to back up. You pull a knife out of your belt, watching as Trink breezes by a tree. Finnick’s close behind, it’s going to be easier to kill her with a weapon. She’s so far out of your range now--not even in sight--that it’s useless to try and kill her. So, you throw the knife at the nearest tree to Finnick’s right.

He doesn’t question it, yanks it out of the bark and runs. 

Looking at Lennox, he’s got a murderous glare. His sword is strong in his hand, and with no Finnick to back you up anymore, you’d say you’re screwed. Except, you aren’t. You’ve got the mountain behind you. And if he wants this kill, he’s going to have to work for it.

You work up the sword, and he’s prepared to deflect the swing, but you throw it instead. You don’t dare to stay a second longer, wheeling yourself around and taking off up the slope. Hand-in-hand with the fast turn, is dizziness. She seems to be kind to you now, so you let her settle while you struggle with running.

It’s not easy, being so weak and trying to run so quickly. You suck in air every chance you get, not really focused on breathing out. You have to make it up, have to tire him out before you take him out. This is a breather, even though it doesn’t look or feel like it. But it’s room to make a plan. As long as you keep your pace, you’ll keep out of his grasp.

You get to the top, and then what? Fight him? You have nothing but your knife, and he has his sword, you think. You risk a glance behind you, to check to see where he is and if he has his weapon. There is no sword, though. He’s just running.

A quarter of the way up, you rip off the jacket and throw it back at him to slow him down. He moves out of the way easily, and determination sets in his eyes. You’ve got so much time. No sword means that he can’t just slash at you, he’s got to have a better idea than that.

Halfway up, the fatigue starts. Your knees buckle a bit, trying to get you to give up, but it’s not going to happen. You’re going to live. The pain in your stomach and ribs is nothing. Your heart pounding in your ears and the headache constantly knocking back and forth in your head, is nothing. It doesn’t matter anymore.

“Give up!” he yells to you, as if you’ll listen.

You push harder, you can almost see the top now. There’s black spots eating away at the edges of your vision, similar to what happened when you were dying. But you’re not. You’re not dying, you’re fighting to stay alive. And what proves that, is the adrenaline still coursing through your body.

You nearly trip over a simple rock, not paying attention to where you step anymore, more focused on the destination. Lennox sounds tired behind you, it doesn't even come close to how you’re feeling. You’re sucking in air as if you’ve woken up from that god-forsaken nightmare of drowning in the ocean again. There’s sweat everywhere on your body.

For the first time in days, you’re feeling warm--more than warm, hot. That furnace has traveled from your forehead, to the entirety of your body. This is unfair.

One foot in front of the other. There’s a simultaneous burning in your calves and thighs. All you want, is to get to the top.

And then it happens, the break in the trees, you don’t even dare to get to the very top, afraid of falling off and dying at whatever lies at the bottom of the cliff. You turn to Lennox, and the two of you stare at each other, huffing to try and catch your breaths. He’s in much better shape than you are. All he’d have to do right now is crush you, and you’re over with.

He seems to realize that, creeping up on you like a rabid dog. Someone is desperate to get you over with. You bet you’ve been like an itch in the back of his mind, ever since you got away because of Blaire. You won’t let him down, you refuse.

Your legs are jelly, and so is your mind. You’re so caught up in his movements and studying them and whether or not they mean he’s going to lunge, that you almost miss the cannon, clear as day.

You think it’s Finnick, killing Trink. But Lennox thinks it’s the other way around, and you know because of the grin that flashes across his face, “Let’s make that two?” 

He jumps now, and it’s not enough time for you to move out of the way. His body slams into yours painfully hard, the two of you tumbling. You kick, and punch whatever you can reach, to get him off of you. It’s not effective, but there’s a rising scream in your throat, loud and aware of what this horrible scene is a reflection of; the last time you almost died.

“Go!” You scream, tears gathering in your eyes.

The moment that Lennox gets a good upper hand on you, he’s going to kill you. He’s not going to just sit around and take care of you slowly, he’s going to finish you off so that he can go home. He doesn’t want to give a show, he wants to get rid of the girl that’s ruined it all for him.

“No--!” you shout, watching him place his legs on either side of you. The restrictiveness is an immediate panic. He leans forward to secure your hands down, but the moment you buck your hips to the left, towards the edge of the cliff, he’s flying off.

He scrambles to try and catch himself on the edge, but his fingers slip over. The only thing that remains is his hand on your wrist, the only thing that’s holding him above what’s lying beneath. Your arm is bent painfully, tears gathering in your eyes. You have no choice but to hold on as you try to figure out a way to get him to let go.

His grip is hard, unrelenting in your hand. He’s nervous, you can tell by the sweat, but he’s not going to let go. You manage a peak over the side, genuinely curious as to what lies beneath, and you’re not disappointed.

High crashing waves, a dark blue sea. Sticking out is large spikes that have formed over time because of the wave pattern. And with the darkness of the water, it means it’s deep. If you let go, and the height doesn’t kill him, the spikes and the lack of knowing how to swim, will. You’re the only thing keeping him from death, right now.

“If I go down, you’re coming with!” Lennox shouts.

It’s perfect timing, because you begin to slide. You try and hold onto anything nearby, but there is nothing. The trees are too far, and the grass breaks off easily. You have to get him to let go, or you’re going to die with him. You’ve come this far, you can’t go now.

Your fingers fumble with the knife on your belt, trying to unsecure it. It’s a struggle, doing it with two hands is easy, one is hard, but it’s even harder when your hands are shaking because you know you’re going to die, otherwise. It falls out, next to your hip, you sweep up the handle, and pause for a moment.

Stabbing his hand could work, but the movement of sitting up could kill you, too. But so far, you’re not seeing a second option, and no matter how sweaty your hands are, you’re still with each other. So, you take a deep breath, holding it. You let go of his hand, and work up a small burst of energy to get this over with.

You sit up, bring your arm over your head, knife in hand, and lean over the cliff to stab into his hand. It goes right through his skin, and straight into yours. Your burnt hand has gained a new problem, with the blade sticking out both ends. Lennox lets go, eyes wide out of shock.

The knife slips out too, and you barely catch a glimpse of his falling body, flailing through the air. You fall back onto the solid ground, heaving air as nausea sprouts in the back of your throat. 

There’s loud crashing through the trees, like a ton of elephants coming through it at once. You can’t bring yourself to look, afraid of what you’ll see. And it's not like you have the energy anyway.

You’re struggling to keep your eyes open, eyelids fluttering. Just a couple more seconds, you’re waiting for something. It sounds. The cannon sounds, you breathe out.

“(Y/n)!” you hear, just before it’s over.


	13. Chapter 13

After it all, after everything that you’ve been through, you thought silence would be the most comforting thing that the Capitol would have to offer. You looked forward to it, to get away from the sound of birds and other animals in trees, the sound of the waterfall, another person’s presence.

But now that you’re sitting here, by yourself, all alone, in a white room that offers nothing but silence, you’re taking it back. You need the background noise, because it’s the reason that your thoughts had been kept at bay for so long. Always focusing on something, took away the loud voices of paranoia.

In this white room, is nothing but the bed you sit on. There are no doors, there are no windows, there is no one, but you. And it’s the eeriest thing you’ve experienced in a very long time. You hate it a lot more than you thought it would. You didn’t mind the silence with the others, because at least you had their presence.

You miss Finnick.

For a while, you wait in this room, staring at the adjacent wall, looking forward to anyone coming through and greeting you. To give you the next step in the process. You lived through the Hunger Games, you made it out alive with Finnick. What happens next?

You get to see him, you’re sure of it. But when? You have so many questions to ask him specifically. You only remember so much, and it stops after a certain point in time. You remember Lennox chasing you up the cliff, you struggling to breathe at the top when you and him were at a standoff. You remember the second to last cannon sounding before he jumped at you.

The tumbling, the rolling, the panic settling into your body. The will to live, the shot of adrenaline, knowing that if Lennox didn’t get off of you, you were going to die. You were weak, small, and sick. He could have punched you, and that would have been it for you. He leaned forward, locking your hands above your head, sitting on your hips. He was prepared to kill you.

But the panic became useful, you thrusted him off, towards the cliff. He scrambled to grab onto anything around him, looking for just one small part of the ledge to hold onto. And in that scramble, he found your left wrist, still tightly held onto. Eventually, it would slip down to your hand.

Below him, high and beautiful dark blue waves, large black spikes sticking out of the water. If you could get him to let go, he would die by any of the three things: the height, the spikes, or the lack of the ability to swim. Your thought process was sped up when you started to slide off the cliffside, too.

You grabbed your knife, and then stabbed through his hand, and through yours too. You can still feel the sharp pain, but it wasn’t even comparable to the other pains in your body. You and Lennox let go, him taking the knife with him. He fell, and you rolled onto your back, still halfway over the ledge.

And this is when it gets blurry. You remember holding onto the pain in your hand, trying to keep yourself awake. You were waiting for something, and it wasn’t the loud trampling sound in the woods. Thinking back on it now, it was Finnick, coming to your rescue before you ended up in the dark blue waves, too.

Then, it happened. The loud and clear sound of the cannon, that’s what you were waiting for. You vaguely remember hearing your name, and then passing out. You don’t remember anything else past that point, not even the head gamemaker announcing your win. You missed it. But your family didn’t.

You want to see them all. You want to see your brothers now. For them to hold you in their arms and tell you that everything is okay now. And they’ll never let you go, not until you ask them to, because you don’t know when that will be. All you know is that you can’t stand it in here anymore. You can’t stand the Capitol. You want to go home.

And overall, you want to see your best friend, Finnick.

You can’t stand sitting here anymore. You have to move.

Beneath the sheets, you’re naked, but the cotton blanket manages to feel soft and soothing against your skin, instead of rough and scratchy like the blankets they have in District Four. When you look down at the floor, you catch a glimpse of your skin, and stop your idea of getting up.

It’s clean. There is no giant bruise on your upper ribs on the left side. When you run your fingers over it, you can feel every single rib on the way down, consequential of the weight loss during the games. Further down, your stomach is healed perfectly, with no scars left behind. Without even thinking about it, you reach for your nose, next.

Inside of the arena, even if you didn’t complain about it much, your broken and crooked nose was throwing you off too much. Made it hard to think, not to mention how tender it was. But running your fingers along it now, it’s smooth, and straight, and unbroken. It brings no pain when you move it to each side.

Your hands are the last thing on the list, as you hold your arms straight out, staring at the back of your hands. On your left, there is no evidence that a knife had ever pierced through your hand. Beneath your nails is cleaned, no more permanent dirt spots, no more remnants of the nail polish from the interview. They’re clean, and perfectly rounded.

Flipping your palms towards you, the scars from the scorching campfire is nowhere to be seen, too. And neither are the tiny scars that had belonged to the tips of your fingers. They had been there for years, from all the times you’d accidentally pricked your finger with a needle or hurt yourself with a fishing hook on the boats. Furthermore, there are no blemishes on your skin. 

You’re in perfect condition, your body is almost like it had been before going into the Hunger Games, minus the weight loss. When you go to get to your feet, you’re prepared to crumple into a useless heap on the floor, but find that your legs are strong, and it’s nice to give them a stretch. 

You bring your arms above your head, because it’s nice to do without a stabbing pain in your body anymore. You stretch backwards, hearing all sorts of popping sounds, and when you’re done, a slight burning in the areas you haven’t moved since you got hurt. It feels good to be able to use your body again. 

You can’t imagine how long it took to get you back to this condition. There’s always a gap between the last day of the games, and when the tributes are revealed to the country yet again. It’s so the doctors inside of the Capitol can do the exact thing that they did to you; heal you up and make you look human again.

You breathe out a laugh, and then catch yourself, anticipating the pain in your side. When there is none, you laugh a little harder, you’re back, at least for now. As you move towards the end of the bed, you catch sight of something familiar, and daunting. You flinch, raising your arms like the clothes will hurt you themselves. When in reality, they’re nothing but a memory of what happened.

It’s the clothes from the games. The black undergarments, the black jeans, shoes, the navy blue shirt, and the thin, white jacket. You want to retreat back beneath the blanket and hide beneath the covers, away from the clothes. But the only reason why you don’t, is because you want to see Finnick.

You pull on the underwear and sports bra, then the pants and the shirt. You put on the socks and the shoes, and contemplate whether or not to bring the jacket. You pull it on anyway, once you realize that since you lost so much body weight, it’s going to be harder to stay warm. You don’t zip it up above the belly button.

Now, you stand and stare at the wall, hoping that there is a door, after all, and you’re not just a lab rat. When you move to grab your ring, you find the space empty. You have to hold out your hand to double-check and see, and sure as hell, it’s not there. They must have taken it off. 

You can’t imagine how much of a struggle that must have been. Inside the arena, you couldn’t take it off, even if you really wanted to. Your fingers had swollen around the metal, and no matter how hard you tugged, it wasn’t budging. Eventually, you just settled for twisting it around your finger to ease the itch and have something to do when things got slow.

Now that it’s gone, you just rub the spot where it used to be. Your skin is silky smooth, did you mention that?

You’re about to go and sit on the bed, not wanting to stand in front of the wall like an idiot any longer, when the wall breaks, and the door slides open. It reveals a slightly dark hallway. When you move out, you’re expecting something, anything, someone? But find no one, not even another door along the walls. The hallway is empty.

You stand for a moment, dumbfounded and wondering where to go next. To your left is a dead end, it looks like. So, you turn and head to the right, wrapping your arms around yourself like a hug, even though you’re not cold. All you want to see is Finnick, where is he?

You take a left turn, and find that the hallways aren’t as empty as you thought they were. Standing in the middle of this one, is a familiar head of black hair, next to him is a tall woman with sleek and shiny dark brown hair, and next to her, is a not-as-tall woman, wearing a seafoam green outfit.

Just as you open your mouth to catch their attention, Anchor is quieting down, eyes locking onto you. Laurel and Elysia notice, looking over their shoulders, and eventually opening up to offer you a spot in their group. Your walk starts slow, like you couldn’t care, but the more you walk, tears gather in your eyes, and you give it up.

You run straight into Anchor’s arms, and he hugs you tightly, letting out a laugh. The tears are streaming out of the corner of your eyes at a steady pace, and you have no doubt that it’s out of joy. It feels good to be in someone else’s presence, to be around the people that know you the best. To know that you’re safe once again.

“Welcome back.” Anchor says, letting you go. 

Laurel doesn’t hug as tightly, but she doesn’t push you off of her, either. Motherly, she’s rubbing your back. You hesitate with Elysia, because she doesn’t look the type for physical affection, but she opens her arms for one final hug, and you grip onto her tightly. You know that you two will be around each other for a long, long time now.

“How do you feel?” Anchor asks.

“Fine, where’s Finnick?” you ask, Pleurisy isn’t here, and neither is Mags, which means that they’re somewhere else, with Finnick, you think.

“You’ll see him soon.” Laurel soothes, “They want your reunion to be live, you just have to wait until then.

You nod, but you don’t like it. You want to see him now, to hug onto him and thank him for everything that he did. He might not think it, but he saved you. He’s the reason why you get to see your brothers and sister again. 

“We should get going.” Laurel says, nodding towards Anchor and Elysia, “We’ll see you two, later.”

Laurel brings your elbow into hers, and keeps a hand on your upper arm the entire way to the elevator. She doesn’t fill the silence, you listen to the click of her shoes against the cement flooring. Her hand on your arm is a constant reminder that she’s here, and you’re not alone.

The elevator leads you up and into the lobby of the Training Center. You grit your teeth and try not to let the thought of it all overwhelm you. The windows that used to let so much sunlight in, are now blacked out to prevent anyone from looking inside. There’s a few peacekeepers here and there, and they seem to barely acknowledge your presence.

Laurel brings you into the elevator, presses the button to the fourth floor, and the doors shut. There’s a quiet hum to the elevator, something that you never noticed before. But with the deafening silence between you two, you have no choice to listen to it. When the doors open, you’re immediately greeted with the prep team.

They’re loud, and excited to see you. You mostly tune them out, but listen in here and then. They don’t say a single word about what had happened in the games, you’re not sure how they manage to find topics, when that seemed to be the main focus before the games. You wonder if Anchor or Mags tipped them off and gave them specific instructions not to say anything.

Nevertheless, you’re brought over to the dining room, where you’re allowed to eat. The moment that the rich, delicious food is set in front of you, your mouth waters. You remember what happened on the first day inside of the train, and eat slowly and carefully. Conversation is light, and you count everything you’re given, and compare it.

One serving of lamb stew, plums and rice, a handful of vegetables, and two buttered rolls is all that you’re allowed. You’re free to have as much water as you like, but as far as food goes, you can’t get anything else. This is almost nothing compared to what you had been eating during your week here, pre-games.

Three--maybe four--servings of stew, too many bread rolls, vegetable plate after vegetable plate, and so much water that you had to cut back before you dry-drowned yourself. As for Finnick, it was nearly twice this, maybe more. You’re sure that soon you’ll be able to start eating like that again, but for now, you’re required to keep yourself from being sick.

After eating, you’re brought to your room, which is when Laurel breaks off. You realize on your way to the bathroom, that there’s a mirror, and you’ll be seeing yourself. So, the moment that you four get inside, you close your eyes and get every last bit of clothing before bothering to open them again.

Once again, you’re naked in front of the mirror. This time, you’re able to see just how bad you look. Beth stands off to the side, a crease between her eyebrows as she stares you over. As for Cleo, she runs a finger along each one of your ribs, “Wow, no scars! That’s fantastic.” 

“No, there’s one.” Beth says, pointing straight at your back, they all have to take a step backward to get the full picture, and they all awe at it.

“Want to see?” Leo asks, and you nod.

They turn your back to the mirror, and hand you a smaller, handheld one. They angle it for you, and it takes a moment before you can see it. And right there, square on your back, are the three claw marks that the bear had made. Long, and deep. Like a ripple in the water.

“Not a full body polish.” Cleo says, “It still looks good.”

“I bet Anchor kept it for you.” Leo says, and you do too.

They might have erased every other little scar on your body, but he left the bigger one, the most important one. Your first ever injury inside of the games, and coincidentally, the one that seems to have left less of a toll. Most victor’s have their symbolic body alteration, like Enobaria with her sharpened teeth. You have something authentic, almost secretive unless you show it off.

When you’re all done aweing, you’re moved right into the shower. They press the buttons and turn knobs for the showing settings for you, washing you down one last time, and doing your hair again. When you step out, it’s when their job really does start. You get a chair to sit in, as the others find their spots to get things done.

Beth does your hair, drying it, straightening it, styling it, then curling it. Cleo sits on the floor with her legs criss-cross, doing your nails, as Leo does your makeup. And it seems like their manner of avoiding the topic of the games has subsided, because it’s all they can talk about. Where they were when what happened inside of the arena.

You don’t listen, just occasionally hum and respond when it’s really needed. You like them, a lot. But you wish they knew better than to pick that topic immediately when they had the chance.

Before you know it, it’s over and Laurel is coming in with your dress. It doesn’t require a bra, since the inside is padded anyway. The dress is a baby blue color, with no sleeves on the top half. It shows off your collarbones, and an inch or so down, the top is secured tight enough to keep it in place. It doesn’t show off any breasts.

It’s tight around the back, and it’s a little difficult to breathe in at first, but you get a hang of it. It has a white pattern on either side of the top, as for the bottom, it’s not very poofy.Enough to give it volume, but that’s it. The fabric is soft, it ends above your knees, and when you spin, it extends all over, like a perfect circle.

Cleo helps you put on white half-socks for the white flats that have a white lace pattern along the sides. Cleo has the job of placing every little accessory that Laurel wants, onto your body. Like a clear anklet around your right ankle, a silver band around your wrist, earrings that dangle because your hair won’t be getting caught in your earrings, and finally, a necklace.

Beth’s allowed a few stands of free hair in the front, curled at the ends. She made it so half of your hair is up and out of your face, and the rest is laid out and pretty. While they circle around you, you reach for the ring, but realize that it’s still gone, and settle for rubbing the spot.

Laurel seems to remember in that moment, and presents the ring, now polished and free of scratches again. You thank her, and slide the token back into place on your right ring finger. You’re brought in front of the mirror, for the final look before you’re led away. 

Your makeup is simple, all that’s different is little stars that Leo added to the corners of your eyes. They’re glued into place, no matter how many times you smile, they don’t fall off. Your nails are covered in the same blue color that you’re wearing. You think that this is a look that Reed would approve of. Not too showy, but not too conservative, either. You look your age.

You’re brought back to the elevator, down to the area of the gymnasium underground. You know what’s happening now, you’ve known the entire time of course, but it’s more prominent. Soon, you’ll be back on stage for the recap of the Sixty-Fifth Hunger Games, where you’ll relive every little moment.

You watch as Laurel and the prep team bid you a temporary farewell and disappear to go get ready, themselves. They’ll be on stage with you, since it’s customary that the mentors, escort, stylist and prep teams be introduced to the audience, too. Normally, it’s only one victor that’s being presented, but this year, it’s two.

You’ll rise from the metal plate in front of you, up and onto the stage. First will be the prep teams, so Beth, Leo, Cleo and whoever tends to Finnick. Then, it’ll be Elysia, since she’s the escort, then Laurel and Pleurisy, next is both Mags and Anchor. And then finally, you and Finnick, both at the same time.

It smells clean under here, and while you adjust and readjust the creases of the dress, you spot a wall a few feet away, and automatically know that Finnick will be over there. He’s probably waiting awkwardly for this to be over, and anticipating the moment that the two of you be reunited.

You know you are.

As you play with the ring, you can hear the roaring of the crowd, Caesar is getting them ready. You flatten out your dress, and turn when you hear your name called. It’s Anchor, wearing a black suit like he’s going to a funeral. He gives you a wide smile, and directs you onto your metal circle.

“Super easy stuff, it’ll all come naturally.” he says, “I’ll see you in a minute.”

He leaves into the darkness, and you’re left by yourself, once again. You press your lips together at first, glad that the gloss Leo had applied earlier seems to have dried. You place your arms behind your back, closing your eyes when the anthem starts. Now, it’s up to your imagination.

Caesar greets the audience, like he does every single time. Only, this is exciting. Two victors are going home to Four, and there hasn’t been two victors in at least twenty years. You twist your ring, round and round. You can hear him introduce each and every one of the prep team members, starting with ladies first. The audience is loud, cheering and clapping.

You’ve seen this part, plenty of times. They bow, curtsy and wave, excited to have their own moment of spotlight. Next is Elysia, you can see her too. In big heels, walking smoothly across the stage with a wave, a bright smile on her face. Then it’s Laurel and Pleurisy, there’s louder cheering. Their outfits have been amazing so far, and who knows what they have in store for the future? Your whole Victory Tour in the winter will be featuring their cool outfits. And lastly, your mentors. Anchor and Mags get the loudest cheering so far, but you know it will be outdone as soon as you’re on stage.

It lasts a while, one minute after another. They’re bringing two tributes home, both young. One of them has broken the record for youngest victor, the other is deceitful, smart and cunning. Both of you will be cherished for a long time after this, and it will take a lot to top you two.

You can feel the rumbling beneath your feet, the metal plate is finally moving. You fix the ring to make it look right, and place your hands in front of you, your right hand on top of the other. You raise your chin a little, and you’re conflicted between a straight face and a smile, but settle on the latter because the dress you’re wearing is nowhere near threatening.

At the very last moment, anxiety sprouts like an annoying flower in your stomach and blossoms in your chest. It’s too late to bite it back, because the lights are blinding your face, and forget deafening silence, because the audience is outdoing themselves now. Clapping, cheering, screaming, whistling, stomping, everything they could possibly do to greet you.

You wait for the metal plate to stop moving before you dare to move yourself. Your legs seem to solidify, and you’re looking over to your right, where Finnick stands. His dark hair is curled like it dried naturally, he’s wearing white slacks with a matching blue button down. He’s got the sleeves pushed up to his elbows.

He’s got the cheeky smile on his face for a moment, hands stuffed into his pockets. You find yourself moving before you can stop, arms outstretched wide and waiting for him. He closes the distance, and pulls you in tightly, arms wrapped around the middle of your back. You place your head on his shoulder, keeping him tight against your body.

You think he’s saying something, but you can’t hear. When you pull back for a moment to look at his face, to take it in while you’re not half-unconscious, he swoops in and kisses you. The cheering somehow manages to get louder, and Finnick smiles halfway through the kiss. After that, it’s right back to hugging, the two of you refusing to let go until you have to.

Caesar wants to continue the show, and neither of you have complaints. It’s only going to be the three of you on stage, so everyone else that’s helped you along the way, has to find their seats in the audience. Finnick takes your hand, sits first and opens his arm wide for you. You take a seat right next to him, letting his arm rest around your shoulders.

He smells nice, like the expensive cologne that Caesar had worn during your interview, but this one is much sweeter. It makes leaning into him all the more bearable, and you don’t dare move an inch away. You can see your brother’s faces already, screwed up and maybe slightly upset.

Or maybe not, because Finnick saved your life. They owe him a little, for bringing their younger sister home.

Caesar manages to settle down the audience before carefully guiding everyone into the mindset of watching the recap. The recap of your games is mainly made up of highlights, that’s going to last exactly three hours. The person who puts it all together has to choose clips from several weeks--in your case, twenty days worth--and most of the time, make a story out of it.

You’re not sure what it is at first, because you don’t think friendship is right. Until it comes through as a ‘hidden alliance’ sort of thing. The first thirty minutes of the three hour recap, is spent on events that had happened before the games. Starting with the reaping, and then the tribute parade through the Capitol, the training scores, and finally, the interviews. It’s a recap of all the tributes, but it focuses on you and Finnick mainly. Which means that you’re able to see how the friendliness between you two slowly dies out and becomes nothing.

Needless to say, it’s obvious that something had happened between the two of you.

The bloodbath is covered in detail, which is the part where you get the most sick watching. This is the first time that Finnick is truly able to watch you in battle, actually killing. He heard you tell the story, but never got to see it himself. You press your lips together and stare, not liking the way that it makes you look.

You’re not a killing machine, you just did what you had to, to survive.

The first two deaths are the District Ten tributes, the boy being from Lennox, and the girl being because of you. The Nine girl gets unlucky with another tribute, Cass gets her neck snapped by Trink. Lennox kills Amos, the boy from Nine gets unlucky with another tribute. And just like that, it’s over for District Nine.

Verda gets unlucky, Five boy is cornered by you, Trink and Lennox, but Trink ends up killing him. And the very final kill of that bloodbath is Horace, which is the one that’s most focused on, in the end. You lunging at his leg like a rabid dog, slicing it open, and then bringing your sword down against his head.

Eytelle dies that next morning because of you and the bear mutts working together. This is when Finnick is able to watch you get hurt for the very first time, and watching you get healed by your allies. The boy from Twelve is killed later on that afternoon. The next day, Finnick is sponsored with his trident, and Thyme agrees to be a distraction. Together, they kill the girl from Twelve, another district down.

Finnick is on top of it with most of the kills. Him and Thyme worked harder than you did. You almost don’t seem to compare. They draw in the tributes, net them with rope that they were sponsored, and kill them that way. The water wasn’t as clean as you thought. He takes out the District Six girl on the fifth day, and Sydney and Thyme on the eighth. 

Things seem to slow, but they’re focusing on you and Blaire a lot more, since Thyme died. They play your entire conversation with Blaire on how you plan to kill Allio to keep the alliance going, and his advice on how to do it. On day eleven, you wake up in the middle of the night and kill Allio, and the audience even now seems captivated by your performance.

Finnick squeezes your shoulders, and you seem to realize that he’s about to watch the shit get beaten out of you, and maybe Blaire. They play those scenes in full, too. Blaire swoops in, saving you, but you’re still wounded. The screen splits into two at first, showing you fleeing and Blaire trying to keep both Trink and Lennox off of him. But as soon as you make it near the waterfall, it splits into three to show what Finnick was doing, too.

Finnick saves you, Blaire dies, and since the two of you are together, it’s much easier to keep track of you two. The sponsor gifts come through, Finnick does his best with keeping you alive. Mac dies on the fourteenth day because he fell out of a tall tree. Finnick carries on with his trap and kill plan with Nestor, the boy from Eight, even though you’re just behind the waterfall.

You wake up on the seventeenth day, and it shows that Trink kills the girl from Five, leaving just four tributes left in the games. You can pinpoint the exact moment that you drink the water, and watch as you deteriorate on screen. You realize why Finnick was beating himself up so badly, now. Because while you didn’t think you looked too terrible, you were awful.

And then the last part of it all plays. Seeing Trink and Lennox at the cornucopia, setting the shack on fire, and watching as your opponents slowly get closer. You and Finnick set up the fake body at the base of the cliff, he sets a pile of sticks and dry leaves on fire, and barely spots them through the trees before running back to you.

He comes, you assure him of the plan. He kisses you, and the battle scene plays. This is when the cheery music that had been playing the entire time, changes to something more dark. The banter between you and Lennox, Finnick chasing Trink through the trees and taking the knife with him.

The screen splits in two again, and it’s two different scenes. While you’re running uphill, struggling to keep ahead of Lennox, Finnick is gaining on Trink. He manages to get a hold of her, but she’s strong and doesn’t go down without a fight. By the time he gains the upper hand on her, you’ve reached the top, having your standoff with Lennox.

Finnick kills Trink, and starts running fast through the trees to where you should be with Lennox. You’re not there, and he sees the footprints that lead uphill, and doesn’t hesitate to follow. While in the meantime, you’re fighting off your attacker, trying not to die. You get Lennox off, he falls over the side of the ledge. You lay there on the cliffside longer than you thought you did, deciding your plan. All while Finnick grows closer and closer.

You begin to slide, unsecure the knife in your belt, and send Lennox to his doom. Finnick can see you through the trees, and there’s a desperate look on his face again. From his angle, you don’t look very alive, and it worsens when the cannon goes off. He shouts your name, and you cringe at how loud and sad it is. Finnick collapses onto his knees, hands shaking as he pulls you away from the edge and into his arms, moving your hair out of your face, begging you to be alive.

You can feel actual tears springing in the corners of your eyes, and you feel the same amount of relief as Finnick when the gamemakers announce your win, “Ladies and gentlemen, I am proud to present the victors of the Sixty-Fifth Hunger games, (Y/n) Gallows and Finnick Odair, the tributes of District Four!”

The recap ends there, which you’re glad for. After reliving all of that, you’re not sure if you can stand it any longer. The anthem plays, loud and clear. You and Finnick rise from the loveseat, still holding onto his hand. President Coriolanus Snow takes the stage, with a little girl, she holds a single crown on a pillow.

He stops in front of Finnick first, giving a twist to the crown to have it split in two halves. He places it on Finnick’s brow, a wide smile on his face, and then he moves onto you, doing the same. His smile reaches his eyes, and he gives you a polite nod, and then moves on.

There’s more cheering, loud and clear. You’re left with Finnick to bow and wave and try to give the last bit of entertainment that you can. Caesar wraps up the show, bidding the live audience a goodbye. You blow kisses while he does this, and Finnick laughs at you. Caesar reminds them to tune in for tomorrow’s final interview, and then that’s it for the night.

You don’t have any time to talk to Finnick after the recap, because the two of you are being split and brought to the President’s Mansion for the Victory Banquet separately. You’re upset, because you’ve been away with him for so long already, and you didn’t get to have a real conversation with him just yet. You can only imagine what it’s going to be like at the banquet.

You and Finnick don’t have much time to eat, and you don’t even get to finish your meal before you and Finnick are being overwhelmed with the amount of Capitol officials and sponsors that want pictures with you two. You hold onto Finnick’s hand tightly, he doesn’t let go, no matter how thick the crowd gets.

One face after another, the more they come, the drunker they are. Your cheeks begin to hurt from all the smiling that you’re doing, and you can feel a dreaded headache coming on. Not as bad as the one you had inside of the arena, but this one isn’t pleasant at all, either. 

Nearby is Anchor and Mags, enjoying drinks and talking to others. You think that after the people take pictures with you, they move on to congratulate them, too. It’s a feat, bringing two tributes home. They’ve got to be ecstatic too.

There’s a break, where Elysia comes through and shields people from taking pictures so you and Finnick can eat a little more again. You try to talk, but you’re drowned out by other voices, other people competing for Finnick and yours attention. You hardly even get a glance before you’re talking to some woman that had helped sponsor the food you ate with Blaire.

The night drags on, you’re growing more exhausted by the minute. It isn’t until the sun has begun to rise, when you’re finally allowed to go back to the Tribute Center. Finnick is allowed in the same car with you, now. But there isn’t any conversation, you’re half-asleep against Anchor’s shoulder when you reach the center.

No talking is allowed, you’re brought to your rooms and ordered to sleep, you’ll be on camera at two in the afternoon. You don’t complain, you hardly pull off the dress, shoes and accessories before you’re collapsing into the bed, half-naked and too tired to put anything on.

Elysia comes through at around noon and helps you get dressed into something comfortable to eat brunch. You drag your feet, sitting at the table. Unfortunately, you’re not given much opportunity here, either. Mags is telling you two to eat quickly, and doesn’t leave room for argument.

When the prep teams arrive, your guys’ time is up. You’re brought right back into your room, and they start the showering process all over again. Leo complains about how you didn’t wash off the makeup, but then says that it’s for the better, and doesn’t offer any complaint after that.

You ask them meaningless questions that keep them babbling throughout the next two hours. Beth pins back hair from your temples, and secures it in back with a silver moon hair pin.. After that, she says her job is done and goes to sit down on the counter and watch the other two finish theirs.

Leo moves away, allowing you to see yourself in the mirror. Winged eyeliner, big eyelashes, rosy cheeks. You look a little older like this, but still practically your age. When Laurel comes through, Cleo sets aside all the things that she’ll need, and then your prep team disappears.

“Just an interview with Finnick.” she says, helping you into the dress, “And Caesar, of course. No live audience, just a camera.”

You smile, thanking her for her help. The dress is a silver color, reaching your knees again. No bra again, since the top is padded, and there’s thin straps holding the dress on your shoulders. The drop of the dress ends just above your belly button, and the fabric is see-through. As for the bottom half, the first layer is tool, with stars, constellations and sun patterns, beneath the tool is silk. Around the back is lace, which Laurel tries not to tie it too tightly, and lets the bow hang.

She helps you into the half-socks and the silver flats. There’s no excessive accessories tonight, only your ring. Laurel leads you down the hall and to the sitting room. Your blue and white loveseat is back, where you and Finnick will be sitting. There’s an adjacent chair for Caesar, and all around is decoration that resembles back home. Starfish, nets, sand, seashells in clear vases. You wander around the room, and pick out a seashell that you swear you have back home.

Caesar moves into the room after you, and you look over to see. He’s got a bright smile on his face, “Congratulations, (Y/n).”

“Good afternoon,” you say, and then turn back to the small table holding the ornaments, “And thank you.”

You settle the shell onto the top of the pile again, moving around the loveseat. Coming through the doorway is Finnick, wearing a black suit with a white undershirt. He gives you a white smile, and following in behind him is Anchor and Mags. They take their spots by the doors, and you’re welcomed to sit in the loveseat to go ahead and start the broadcast..

Finnick sits down first, and you right next to him. You keep your feet firmly placed on the ground for a moment, but then settle for crossing one of your legs over the other. Finnick takes your hand, giving you a tight squeeze. There’s a countdown from ten, and you fix your posture and give a polite smile.

The conversation is light at the beginning. You expect him to marvel at your guys’ strength, for being so young and all, and you called it exactly. Caesar is fantastic at his job, making sure that the two of you are comfortable throughout the beginning, until it begins to dip.

“I’ve heard around that you and Finnick were friends before the games, did that influence an alliance at all?” Caesar asks.

“Yes, at the very beginning, but it didn’t hold up for long.” Finnick says.

“And why not?” Caesar looks between you two.

When Finnick doesn’t answer immediately, you’re left to pick it up, “Well, we had agreed with trying to get into the career pack. We had even talked to them all after the tribute parade, but it wasn’t until the first or second training day when I realized that Finnick wasn’t interested in the alliance with them anymore.

“Inside of the gymnasium, he’d pulled me along and introduced me to Blaire, Verda and Thyme. I thought I had better chances with the careers, and split away from him.”

“So it was a mutual understanding?” Caesar asks.

“Yes.” Finnick says, and Caesar’s making a face and tilting his head.

“There’s more, I know it! What had happened? In the cave, (Y/n), you mentioned something about him being right. What was he right about?”

You give him a brief smile. You know he’s only asking the questions that the Capitol is dying to know, so you can’t be mad at him. But this is about to get nasty, especially if Finnick still won’t accept what you have to say about it.

“I think it was the night before the interviews when Finnick and I had talked for the last time,” you start quietly, “He was already in my room, and he tried to tell me that being with Trink, Lennox and the other two would be dangerous. I told him the same thing, but with Blaire, Verda and Thyme, I told him that they’d end up getting him killed because they weren’t as skilled as him or I.

“And then he tried to tell me that it wasn’t a plan that my brothers would approve of. I--”

Finnick shakes his head, “She told me her brothers had told her to do anything she had to, to win. I couldn’t be mad at her for that, and she asked for me to leave and not talk to her again. And I listened.”

You don’t think it was that simple, and you frown slightly, looking at him. He doesn’t look at you. So, you go right back to the camera and Caesar, “And he was right, because the careers nearly got me killed. I got too bold with my actions, and I nearly died because of it. Finnick saved my life, whether he wants to believe it or not. I got lucky with his compassion when he found me. If not, I wouldn’t be here.”

Finnick doesn’t push it, and Caesar is either oblivious or doesn’t care, “But you two did come together in the end, despite the fight.”

“I knew her before the games, and I couldn’t just leave her.” Finnick says, “I know her brothers, her family knows mine. I remembered all the times we walked home together after school. It wasn’t even a choice to leave her, I didn’t consider it.”

Caesar begins to uplift, backtracking to before you and Finnick had seen each other. He asks Finnick questions about his system with Thyme and how they came up with it. Next is you, with seeing Blaire and your decision to keep him alive. You tell everyone that Blaire had been kind at the start, and you saw him as a friend after the training days. Right after comes the plan with Allio and why you chose him, out of the others.

You calmly explain that Lennox or Trink would have gone berserk if their district mate had died. And Allio was the more worrying one. He might not have killed anyone, but you felt like he was getting close to it, asking dangerous questions about how you killed Eytelle and the Twelve boy. And then how your plan had been completely foiled when you lost your special knife, and Trink and Lennox found it beneath the box at your bed.

Caesar reveals to you that the pond water was never bad, and neither was the fish. It was the water at the waterfall that was bad. You’re nodding along, saying, “Beauty can be deceiving.” They agree, and the very last part, is how you managed to come up with the plan of ending the games.

You don’t know what to say anymore, so Finnick gives his interpretation, how he saw you the entire time. A trooper, how you kept pushing on even though it was obvious that you were exhausted. He wanted you to take more breaks than you willed, but allowed you to continue on.

He was extra worried when it came around to leaving you in the woods by yourself. During that entire walk, you were on his mind, and he was more than eager to get back to you. When he spotted Trink and Lennox through the trees, he panicked and came straight back, not caring about the fire, because there was no doubt that they’d seen him.

How he wanted to hide you somewhere and fight off Lennox and Trink alone to save you. You, of course, didn’t allow him that, and he sobered quickly. When he kissed you, it was because he was afraid that you’d be the first cannon, and he just wanted to get his feelings out there. You squeeze his hand tightly.

It all finishes up, the climax being the end of the games, where you’re on the ledge.

“You were still awake.” Caesar says, “Why? We didn’t see you close your eyes, even though you very well could’ve.”

“I wanted to make sure that Lennox was gone, and he wouldn’t be coming back. That I had redeemed myself, and took out the boy that mattered the most. I didn’t know if it was Finnick coming through the trees, and I didn’t even care.”

“What about you, Finnick? What were your thoughts when you got to her?”

“I thought she was dead, and I was prepared to beg for her to come back.” is all Finnick says, his hand is tight in yours, almost painful.

Caesar finishes it off, and then the cameras are dead. It’s over, the final interview is over. You reach over to Finnick, letting go of his hand and pulling his body tightly against yours. Some are crying, others are also hugging. You and Finnick keep close as you get up from the loveseat.

You bid farewell to Caesar, thanking him for being so kind. He wishes you and Finnick good luck with the coming months, and your Victory Tour. He’ll be looking forward to speaking to you two again.

You’re welcome to go back to your room and collect anything that you might want, but there is nothing. You’ve got your mother’s ring, and FInnick still has his rope around his wrist. With that, you’re brought out of the Tribute Center and into a car with blackened windows. They drive you through the streets of the Capitol and straight to the train.

It’s a brief goodbye with Laurel and Pleurisy. You thank Laurel and tell her that you’ll be looking forward to what she has in store for the Victory Tour. After that, you and Finnick are brought inside with Anchor, Mags and Elysia. The door shuts behind you guys, and the train is dark for a long moment as you move through the tunnel. As soon as you’re out, is when you’re being brought to the dining car for dinner. 

You eat as much as you can, being wary of the fact that the food is still very rich. You know that it should take a long time to recover from the weight loss, but you want to be back to normal now. You don’t want to look like this in front of the entire district, and Finnick seems to be thinking the same way.

When you’re done eating, you’re brought in to watch the replay of the interview. You notice that while it had felt like you were talking more, Finnick was answering more questions. Caesar tried his best with alternating between the two of you, to catch both of your perspectives, but it was hard when the two of you were thinking nearly the same.

After the replay is commentary, and you all decide that it’s time to dissipate and do your own things. You decide on a shower, to get rid of the dress and watch away the makeup. Finnick says that he’s going to do the same, and you promise Anchor and Mags a real conversation later, if they want. They say it’s fine, you’ll have plenty of time for talking, later.

You take your time in the shower, running your fingers through your soft hair, and scrubbing your body until you smell of lavender permanently. Then, you sink onto the floor and turn the water lukewarm to sit there for a while. Tomorrow, you’ll arrive back home, you’ll get to see your family again.

You close your eyes, and the only time you get up again is to turn the water hotter. As you sit here, you realize that this is your real moment of peace. No chaos, no one to interrupt your thoughts. You’re welcome to do how you feel. Following that thought is an onslaught of tears and sobbing so hard that it leaves your throat sore.

With your head on your knees, arms wrapped around your feeble body, you cry. You cry for everything that you’ve been through, for every tribute that you killed, for every friend you just lost. You cry for their families, and their friends, and their district. They will never get to see their children again, and they will never know what it’s like to hold their child.

Six tributes fell by your hand. One of them being thirteen years old, just a boy, only a year younger than Finnick. When you were thirteen, you were going through what you thought would be the hardest part of your life. Living in poverty, both of your parents gone, and a baby to replace your mother. 

You just want to go home.

Other victors would be happy, especially the main careers. Pumping their fists, screaming and cheering. They were all excited to have survived, proud and confident. You doubt they ever showed a lick of weakness because they’d trained their entire lives to win the games. Them compared to you, is nothing. Show them your defeat and you’ll be just as forgotten as the other victors that fell to their survivors' guilt.

You didn’t have a choice.

Out of the shower, you put on dark grey shorts and a lighter grey tank top. You brush through the snarls in your hair for a while, but give up and place it all into a ponytail in the end. When you leave the bathroom, you find your room empty. Finnick is nowhere to be seen. You drop the ring into the bowl on the nightstand and fall onto your back on the bed.

You wanted to talk to him, but you’re not sure if there’s anything to say. He already knows how grateful you are for his help, so what’s the point in saying it? You stare at the ceiling for a long time, listening to the rumbling of the train. You wish for sleep, to finally get a night full of sleep.

Even hours later, you’re met with nothing. You give up, take the ring with you on your way out. It’s dark outside of the windows, and it’s silent inside of the train. You hesitate in the hallway, wanting to see if Finnick’s awake in his own room, but decide that if he’s sleeping, you should let him.

You wander down the hall, the peacekeepers give you a nod and you greet them quietly. In the dining car, on the way to the sitting room with the tv and the couch, you see that there’s food laid out. It’s so that you can serve yourself, there is no Avox or otherwise around to tell you not to.

You dig through the cold beverages, and then the hot, looking for something that will make you feel cozy. At the very last cabinet, you find a whole potluck of liquor, and consider it for a brief moment. Then, you remember that you don’t want to make a fool of yourself when you get back home. So, you settle on hot chocolate, and warm sweet rolls that are still steaming. A whole loaded plate later, you move on.

In the sitting car, you place everything onto the coffee table, pushing the couch away as you sit on the floor. You turn the tv on, vaguely remembering the buttons that Anchor had pressed effortlessly. You get it to turn on, and immediately, your games start playing from the very beginning, starting with the reaping. 

You watch it numbly, sipping on your hot chocolate and eating your rolls until they’re all gone. You watch the games twice, the first time paying attention to yours and Finnick’s movements, every little thing that you did to bring yourself to be a victor. The second time around is everyone else. Blaire and Verda’s reaping, Tribute Parade costumes, scores, interviews and deaths. You watch how they start out so hopeful, and slowly dwindle to nothing.

The sun comes through the windows, and you don’t find yourself tired at all. You clean up your mess, turn the tv off and go into the dining car to find that Elysia is already awake. She looks over, completely surprised, “How long have you been up for?”

“Didn’t sleep.” you tell her, setting the dishes aside for cleanup.

“We’ll be there soon, you should get ready.” she says.

You go back to your room, brush your teeth and fix your hair. You pull it out of your face again, but at least this time it’s smooth and looks nice. You go into the closet to find an outfit has already been set aside for you. Ripped white jeans, with three silver buttons instead of a zipper, and a light blue blouse that you button up. You put on tennis shoes, and when you leave the closet to go see yourself in the bathroom mirror again, you find Finnick dressed and sitting in the chair in the far right corner of the room.

“Where’d you go last night?” he asks.

“Sitting room.” you tell him, placing your hands in your front pocket, “Sorry I wasn’t here, couldn’t sleep.”

He smiles a bit, “I could.”

You roll your eyes, and laugh, “Ready for breakfast?”

“Yeah.” Finnick says, following you out of your room.

You eat a quick but large breakfast with everyone. Elysia is keeping track of the clock, and when the time hits ten minutes, it’s over. You’re only allowed orange juice and water to drink before you arrive. You and Finnick spend the time in anxiousness. This will be the final time you’re on camera for a couple of months, you think. And it’s you greeting your home.

You and Finnick position yourselves in front of the doors. The train goes dark as you move through the final tunnel, and it lights up again when you reach the station. You offer your hand for Finnick first, giving him a smile. He takes it, and the two of you squeeze. The train stops, the doors hiss, and open to your entire district being at the station.

There’s cheering and clapping, and whistling. Everyone here is so much louder and more excited than the people in the Capitol ever was. You raise your left hand to wave, squeezing Finnick tightly. Completely forgetting about the cameras, you let the tears gather in your eyes, overjoyed.

Hello District Four, you think, it’s nice to see you again.


	14. Epilogue

After you won the Hunger Games, you were fully convinced that you would never get a moment of silence ever again. Elysia didn’t tell you until after you’d arrived in District Four–back when you had just come home from the games–that you’d be busy for weeks after. Your life wouldn’t return back to normal immediately, it would be gradual.

On top of all the celebrations that you were required to attend, like the Banquet with all the expensive people in and outside of your district. In your opinion, that was probably the worst to attend, and it was only slightly better because Finnick was there to help you. Then there was a holiday where entertainers from the Capitol and food was provided for everyone. And finally, the first Parcel Day, where families would all receive their own package of food for bringing home a tribute. The best part? There’s one Parcel Day for every month.

Not to mention, you spent every waking moment with Finnick. If you weren’t with Finnick, you were with some Capitol reporters that came around regularly to check up on you and your family. For a while, it seemed like they weren’t going to leave at all, which started to get Reed irritated. 

He just wanted to have a get together with Caspian’s family to finally have a small celebration between you all, but it was practically impossible when you were constantly being hounded. Finnick felt the same way, it made him squirm but he never said anything that might turn the reporters away. Reed was a whole different story.

And even after his meltdown, they didn’t consider leaving you alone until some dumbass made the mistake of trying to surprise you from behind. In return for flipping the reporter onto their back and nearly killing them after, you were then signed up for the best therapist that Reed could find.

He says that it isn’t permanent, but you need to be going every week for a while. The Hunger Games did a number on you, and it was only obvious when you had literally treated the reporter like another tribute inside of the games. In the end, you bruised Mox’s rib and nearly broke Reed’s nose.

You felt horrible for a while after, but they weren’t mad at you. It’s not your fault, you didn’t ask for any of this, it just came along with the already-shitty package. You’re just lucky that the reporters weren’t allowed to say anything on it. Otherwise, the image that the Capitol constructed for you, would be completely ruined.

So, really, you spent about a month and a half after the games, celebrating and trying not to look too terribly bad in front of the reporters. It wasn’t at all glamorous, you woke up every morning feeling worse than the last. When everything cooled down, you told Reed, Mox and Finnick that you’d need a while to yourself before even considering being around others. 

Finnick felt the same. You guys spoke when you could, but the conversations weren’t very long. By the time you came around to each other again, you’d already been moved into Victor’s Village, right next to Mags. Finnick is placed next to Anchor. The houses are huge, with more bedrooms than you know what to do with. If you really wanted to, you could fit Naida’s entire family in here. And she has five kids, one girl and four boys.

The house would be an absolute disaster, of course. But you’d still be able to fit their entire family, and maybe even Finnick’s, if you’re squeezing. Finnick only has a younger brother, Orion. Since your winning of the games, you’ve got significantly closer with his family. A lot more than you had been originally.

You thought that you were close before, when he’d bring you cookies and walk you home from school in the rain. That was really nothing, compared to this. At least once a week, you two meet up to have lunch or dinner or something, just to keep you all close. And once every two to three weeks, your two families and Naida’s will meet up in your house to have dinner.

Fifteen people, all sat at one table. When it comes to cooking, practically everyone is working together. The younger kids are all playing together in one of the spare bedrooms, and even then, there’s still people left over, with no clue what to do. It tends to be you, Finnick and Alyssum that are left alone the most often. Either in your living room or out front. The house can be quite loud a lot of the time.

After the two of you won the games, it hasn’t been the exact same as it was before. You knew that there would be differences, you’d already seen it when you had gone home for the first time with your family. The way that the neighbors, the ones you’ve known for years, would shut their curtains and for good measure, their blinds too. It made for a lonely neighborhood. 

You can’t just ask them why they have the sudden change of heart, but you suppose you could guess. As if you’ve been repeating to yourself for months now, you’re the fifteen year old girl who won the Hunger Games with one fourteen year old boy. He was the youngest victor, together you found out that you’re the youngest pair to win together. You once lived in poverty, and now you’re practically royalty. 

People are just waiting for you to stop being humble, but it’s hard to forget your roots, especially when they’re deeply embedded. You remember the nights of eating dinner by the candlelight, and the cold winters and sweltering summers. You remember the stomach pains when you had to give up your dinner for Alyssum.

You wish you could tell all of them that you’re the same. You’ve always been the same person, and you don’t have the slightest intention of changing. Not as you get older, not as your money starts piling. You’re still the same girl who used to go to The Square for soaps and ugly dresses and beat down shoes when there was no other place to go.

Maybe it isn’t you who’s changed, it’s the people around you.

Sounds like something cheesy, straight out of some romance novel.

Well, back to what you were saying about being fully convinced that you’d never get a moment left to your thoughts ever again; there’s about to be a rinse and repeat. You’ve managed to survive a couple of normal months, and it’s just about to get hectic. The winter Victory Tour is here.

The Victory Tour happens six months after the end of the Hunger Games. So, not only do districts have time to mourn and heal from the wounds of their tributes being killed, they’re now forced to reopen those wounds. And you’re going to be required to rub it in their faces.

The only reason why the Victory Tour takes place so long after the actual games is because it’s a reminder that the districts can’t fully escape the games. Sure, your tributes might have been killed in the summer, but just because it’s winter, doesn’t mean you get to have a moment of peace. What kind of ridiculous thinking is that?

It just means you’re about to spend another couple of weeks away from home. About a day in every district, starting in District Twelve and ending in District Four, since you skip over your home district. So, it would technically go from Twelve, Eleven, Ten, etc all the way to Five, then it would be Three, the career districts, and then a celebration at home. Again.

Needless to say, you hope that you’ll never have to celebrate another thing ever again in your life after this. You’re tired of the big dinners and the pats on the backs. You just want everything to return back to normal.

“Think we should head back, yet?” Finnick asks, skipping another rock across the water. He’s knee-deep, pants rolled up to keep them from getting wet, but he doesn’t care anyway. You’ll be taking a shower when you get home.

“Probably.” you tell him, but neither of you move. Finnick rubs his thumb over a smooth gray stone, showing it to you.

You barely look over in time to catch that it’s the shape of a heart. Instead of doing something romantic, like handing it to you, Finnick straight throws it, not even trying to skip the rock. It soars through the air, going pretty far into the water. When it lands, it causes a minor splash. You’d say that’s swimming deep, you wouldn’t be able to stand up anymore.

“Can’t wait until this is all over.” you say.

“Tell me about it.” he skips another rock, it hits the surface once, twice, thrice, four times before it sinks, “I just keep thinking about how the other kids at school are reacting.”

“Reed was actually considering homeschooling me.” you tell him.

He pauses, looking over at you, “You can’t do that, then I’d be at the school by myself.”

You give him a small grin, “So? Won’t it be like before, when we didn’t really talk?”

“I hope not.” Finnick laughs, “We’re in it for life, we have to be. Plus, you live on the same street as I do, so there’s no avoiding me.”

“I can try.” you push yourself up from the rock beach, crossing your arms over your chest, “I think we’ll grow sick of each other eventually.”

“If they keep pushing us together, I do too.” Finnick holds out a rock for you. You take it, weighing it in your palm before skipping it. It dies after bouncing twice.

He throws his last rock, this one goes the farthest so far. When it sinks too, he brushes off his hands and turns around, getting out of the water. You pull your dirty tennis shoes on again. Finnick dries his feet with his towel, throws said towel over his shoulder, then slides his feet into his sandals. After that, you’re on your way back.

“At least we get to see our prep teams again, I missed them.”

“I didn’t.” Finnick makes a face, shaking his head, “Too touchy for my liking, even before we won.”

“Gross, wish I could give you mine instead.”

“No, you don’t.” Finnick makes a face, and then the two of you laugh.

The walk to Victor’s Village is far, since you and Finnick purposely tried to find a spot that would be hard to find, if anyone came looking. You don’t think anyone has, but then again, you won’t know until you get back to the houses. You and Finnick fill the silence by talking about what you think will actually happen when school gets started up again. You guess sashays to wear, and finnick bets on crowns.

And sure enough, when you get back to the village, you’re able to see the cars parked on the cobblestone pathways. There’s cameras being set up outside, and two separate nervous parents waiting. For Finnick, this would be his mother, Laoise, who comes rushing down the steps immediately.

“Where have the two of you been?” she asks, then doesn’t wait for an answer as she starts yanking Finnick towards his house. 

You wave him goodbye before heading towards your parent, Reed. He’s not upset, as far as you can tell. You head inside with him to see that your prep team definitely is. Cleo lets out the biggest whine you’ve heard come from her, and Leo sighs loudly to let you know that he isn’t happy. Beth, on the other hand, starts towards your bathroom to get a shower started.

You’re not allowed a single conversation with Anchor, or Elysia who seems to be bouncing back and forth between houses. You’re drowned in water, hair washed swiftly just to make it shiny and clean-looking again. You smell like fruit and flowers at the end of the shower, being swept right into your bedroom after.

This is when they start to work like they did beforehand. Cleo gets to work on your nails, Leo heads right in with fixing your eyebrows and plucking every little hair, washing your face down, and starting over to make sure you’re to his liking. While Beth, as usual, takes her time with drying and styling your hair to make sure that it looks good enough. Out of the three of them, she’s luckiest since her job isn’t that hard.

Cleo’s going on about how the entire Capitol is excited to see you again. This is when you remember that you’ll be visiting the Capitol again. You bite your tongue, since you’re not excited. You wonder if this means you’ll be onsaughted by reporters again, going back to weeks of non-normalcy.

“Laurel doesn’t want to see you until you’re fully dressed.” Cleo says, raising from the floor, “I’ll grab your clothes.”

She leaves the room, Leo and Beth pack up their things, “You’ll be wearing warm clothes tonight. I wouldn’t get used to it if I were you. You’ll be in dresses for the entire tour.” Leo says.

“Great.” you give him a smile, “Thank you, both.”

Cleo comes back in a moment later, and has you getting dressed immediately. Obviously they’re going for cool tones, because they place you in thick white pants and a long-sleeved, light blue shirt. After that is the jacket, the second that it’s zipped up, you can feel yourself start to sweat. It’s safe to say that you won’t be feeling the cold outside. They place you in warm shoes too, and you’re forced to stand still while they readjust.

In the end, they take the jacket off and tell you that you’ll be wearing it later. For now, you can go ahead and see everyone else downstairs. You take your time going down the steps, not really in a hurry. There’s no way you guys are going to be on time as much as you had wanted to earlier.

“There she is!” Anchor stands in your hallway, motioning to you.

Laurel comes out of your living room, looking over you from head to toe, “Where’s the jacket?”

“With Cleo, she said I could wear it later.” you say, “How do I look?”

“Like how you should.” she says, and then moves on. If you could take a guess, you think she’s annoyed that you did make them behind schedule. Finnick’s probably receiving the same cold treatment that you are.

Elysia comes in through the door, holding it wide open. Behind her is the camera crew, who come in and make themselves comfortable in the living room. Soon, the downstairs manages to crowd. The camera crew, Elysia, the prep team, your siblings, Anchor and Laurel. With the amount of people in the house, the volume starts to increase. 

You reach for your pinky to find that the ring is missing. In the middle of instructions from Anchor, you turn without a single word and head up the staircase. If you’re going to do this, you’re going to need the ring. If Anchor is bothered, he doesn’t say anything, he just lets you go.

In your room, you shut the door to muffle the sound and get some privacy. If you heard Elysia correctly, you should have five minutes or so before you present your hobby to the camera crew, which they’ll be editing and showing the public later. When it came to picking one out, you and Finnick were pretty stumped.

The choices were obvious, you were going to rock, paper, scissors to see who would get fishing or knots, when Mags came through with some ideas. Most of them were stupid, Finnick can’t play a guitar and you’ve never really liked gardening. Then Anchor suggested a two part skill, photography and modeling.

You wanted to shut down the idea, especially when Finnick was all for taking the pictures. If you have professional pictures of yourself, people are going to think you’re vain. So, Finnick switched the roles and decided that he could be the model and you could be the photographer. 

It took some practice, the first couple of pictures that you’d taken with the Capitol-bought camera were horrible. But as time went on over the few months, you managed to get a hang of it. And Finnick decided that he liked to model a lot more than he thought he did. And just like that, the problem was solved.

While Finnick’s living room is covered in pictures of himself that you took in various places, your living room has cameras and a few scenery and portrait pictures to show. Needless to say, this is another example of how you and Finnick have been complimenting each other since the beginning. 

You find your ring where Beth had placed it to get it out of the way during the bath. You pick it up and slip it on. By the time you get downstairs, they’re ready for you to start talking about yourself and not shut up until you’ve covered everything. After, you’ll narrate from notecards that Elysia wrote for you.

You think Anchor might’ve told Reed and Mox that you were overwhelmed or something, because it’s clear there’s been a change. Elysia is gone completely, Laurel and the prep team stand in the dining room, away from where you are. The camera crew inside of the living room is spread out enough to give you breathing room. The only people standing close are your brothers.

Just before you’re on camera, you stand taller and give a smile. Once they give you the cue, you go ahead and start explaining your hobby. The cameras, the pictures, how Finnick is your partner in crime with this. You make sure to explain what you do exactly with the pictures. When you’re done, you read the notecards as peppy as you can, then they push you out so they can get the living room by itself.

Reed and Mox aren’t excluded from the event, they’re actually pulled on camera together, which leaves you to hold onto Alyssum for the time being. You expected her to be pretty alert, but in the end, she lays her head on your shoulder while you sway. As soon as they’re done, things start moving quickly.

You hand Alyssum over, and Anchor comes back around with instructions. Laurel pulls the jacket onto you, which has you feeling like a furnace again, but you don’t complain. You nod and him and try to pay attention the best you can. All you seem to remember now is that you need to look as excited as possible when seeing Finnick.

Elysia then stops you in front of the door, tells you to be careful, and then opens the door. You step out, ignoring the sound of the door shutting behind you when you go down the steps. A smile spreads over your face at the sight of Finnick, who looks just as ridiculous as you feel because of how bundled you are. Especially since he was wearing shorts in freezing cold water just a couple of hours ago.

“Finnick!” you shout, opening your arms up wide.

Finnick hugs you tightly, pulling you flush against his chest. He presses a warm kiss against your cold cheeks and laughs, “Missed me that much?”

“Of course!” you laugh too.

Everything you’d been building up to today, is over just like that. It was only to get an outside shot of you and Finnick greeting each other for the first time during the Victory Tour.

The goodbyes to your family and friends takes place outside. Finnick says goodbye to his parents and his brother, Orion. You say goodbye to your brothers, sister and Naida’s family, since they wanted to see you one last time before you go. Everyone from the Capitol piles into their cars, the Capitol people take off first. You, Finnick, Elysia and your mentors get into the last car. You wave goodbye to your brothers before you go.

At the train station, you wave goodbye and board the train. Elysia doesn’t stop the grind there, as she gets you guys into the dining room to have supper. The prep team doesn’t join you guys when you eat. You and Finnick have to take it easy, since the food is so unbearably rich. Even with you trying to make sure that you don’t eat too much, you still manage to feel pretty nauseous after.

After that, you’re left to your own devices. Laurel and Pleurisy disappear, Elysia says to be ready to get up early tomorrow, and your mentors head straight to bed. It leaves just you and Finnick as always. For a while, you two just stare at each other as if you don’t have a clue on what to say.

Then, Finnick gives a smile, “Sleepover?”

You grin, “Oh, hell yeah. I’ll just take a shower first.”

“Meet you there, then.” Finnick says.

You two split, with Finnick going to his own room. In yours, you go ahead and pick out your pajamas, and then shut the door to the bathroom to make sure that Finnick won’t accidentally walk in on anything. With the ring in a safe place, you step into the shower to wash off all of the prep team’s work. Once the water starts running clear again, you step out.

Finnick’s got his spot next to the wall all sorted out. He’s got a blanket laid out, a pillow and then a second bigger blanket to actually use. Obviously he banked on your shower idea, because his hair is wet too. You slip the ring into the bowl at your bedside and then fall back onto your bed.

“Tired?” Finnick jokes.

“Compared to you, yeah.” you look at him, “They’ve got to do a lot more with me than you. You heard Elysia, you get to sleep in.”

Finnick scoffs, “You think I sleep?” he tries to keep a straight face after, but it doesn’t work. The two of you crack up.

“Anyway, I’m going to bed.” you tell him.

“Sounds good to me.” Finnick says, settling in next to the wall.

The two of you lay in silence for a while. Despite feeling completely exhausted, you can’t bring yourself to fall asleep. You curl yourself up, rock yourself, spread out, roll over but there’s nothing that works. Finnick falls asleep faster than you do, you can hear his heavy breathing.

You eventually settle for staring at the ceiling, feeling a sense of deja vu. It’s exactly like how you’d tried to fall asleep the night before you got home. Only then, you were nervous and excited and now you’re just… upset? You just want to be back to normal. You get that you’ll be mentoring again in the spring/summer, but for now, you should be able to relax.

You think you fall asleep sometime in the middle of the night. You wake up to Elysia rocking you and telling you it’s time to get started. She helps you get dressed into something comfortable, and you decide to leave your ring on the bedside table. When you leave the bedroom, Finnick is still sleeping comfortably next to the wall.

He won’t have to get up for a couple of hours. He’s only got so much that needs to be done, while you on the other hand have to go through everything the Capitol did initially. Your skin is going to be sore for the first time in a long time. You were just getting used to finally looking like the other girls in your grade, too.

Your prep team is already in the dining car when you get there. You assume your regular spot and watch as the team slowly comes to life. It’s obvious that they never have to get up this early, ever. You watch as they drink cup after cup of coffee, and then popping brightly colored pills into their mouths as they go.

Cleo does the most out of all of them, which solves the mystery as to why she’s so energetic. In no time, she’s looking awake and chatting with Leo animatedly. You eat quietly and try not to engage in conversation with them just yet. You wonder how they’re going to rebuild you if Finnick’s sleeping in your room.

You finish your breakfast, and figure that if you’re going to wake up Finnick in the process, you might as well bring him something as a gift. With the help of Elysia, you pack a plate full of foods that he enjoys. Cleo and Leo try not to be loud–Beth isn’t ever a problem–but they end up waking Finnick anyway.

“Here.” you set the tray onto the floor, “I’ve got to get started.”

He’s tired, but at least there’s no bags beneath his eyes, “Have fun.”

“Thanks.”

Beth shuts the door the most of the way, and then they all turn on you like a pack of wild dogs. You’re stripped for the most part, and they start with waxing your legs. Finnick occasionally talks to you on the other side of the door, enjoying his breakfast. By the time you’re being bathed the second time, Elysia comes around to collect Finnick.

They’re all unusually quiet during this, even Cleo. You guess that the coffee and weird pills didn’t do their job good enough. They shower you one last time, try your skin and then lather you in the healing lotion. Immediately, you begin to feel better. You thank them for their efforts, get dressed and meet everyone else in the dining car again. It’s lunch time.

Elysia lays out the plan for you guys during this time. For the Victory Tour, you’ll be starting in District Twelve, which is another day’s train ride from here. By tomorrow afternoon, you should be there. She outlines the protocols and tells you what you should expect from the district, there’s not a single nice thing she says after that.

“It’s not all that bad.” Anchor says, he’s finished with his lunch already, just occupying a spot to keep you all company, “They’re going to be upset like they are every year.”

You share a look with Finnick, though. As much as Anchor and Mags can try and comfort you two, you think they’ve forgotten who the two tributes died to. You killed the boy, drowned him unfairly in water he doesn’t know how to swim in. And Finnick killed the girl a couple days later. You don’t know if you can even consider that self-defense.

In fact, the more you think about it, the more you begin to realize that every stop you’ll be making over the course of the next few weeks will be completely miserable. You and Finnick got an even split of murders, both of you have six, which in total makes twelve. Almost every stop will have one tribute you killed.

Anchor says that the districts are going to be upset, but that’s such an understatement. They’re going to be pissed, the only one that might be a warm welcome is going to be District Three, because of Verda and Blaire. Otherwise, you’re absolutely hated.

Finnick recognizes this too, his face is twisted, the two of you stare at each other for a moment. You wonder who’s going to be the one to point this fact out, but neither of you speak. You just let the topic drop, he goes back to picking at his sweet roll.

“Alright well, I’m going to take a nap. Wake me when it’s supper.” you say.

A few of them bid you a goodbye, you drag your feet all the way to your room. Really, you’re not all that tired, you just don’t want to hear Elysia call another district dirty and ungrateful again. In your room, Finnick’s belongings are gone, so there’s no chance that you’ll be interrupted.

Instead of laying down, you find yourself heading towards the chair that you’d first occupied on your way to the Capitol during the summer. You sit in it, sinking into the plush cushion, and stare into the room. It’s a moment before you remember that magazine from your first time around.

You open up the nightstand drawer and find that there’s a new issue. And right on the front is a picture of you and Finnick that you took for the victory tour. 

image  
Inside is probably your worst nightmare. There’s information about yourself, all spilled out onto the page. Your birthday, your age, stuff about your family, how both of your parents died… it just keeps going.

Finnick’s page isn’t nearly as bad as yours. In fact, when you read over it, you’re sure that the Capitol publishers purposely did this. When you begin to feel sick, you rip it into shreds and throw it into the bathroom garbage can so that you don’t have to see it. 

This is when you decide that it’s a good time to fall through on taking the nap. You pull the blanket above your head to shield yourself from the light. It takes some time, you still toss and turn but sticking to the idea works. The next time you wake up is to Elysia at the door, telling you that supper is ready.

Even after catching a look at yourself in the mirror, you decide that you could care less. You’re going right back to bed after this, you’re fucking exhausted. Everyone is sitting at the table when you get out there, and spirits seem to be pretty high. The prep teams carry most of the conversation.

You pick at your food in the beginning, not entirely hungry since you just woke up. You squint, each as much as you can, and sit at the table until you decide that it’s an appropriate time to get up and leave. You and Finnick are reminded that you’ll be up early tomorrow by Elysia. After that, you’re free to go.

Finnick stays at the table, but you go ahead and leave. You change into proper pajamas and roll over. You don’t fall asleep as quickly as you had hoped. In fact, you’re stuck thinking about the families of the kids that you had killed in the arena.

District Twelve, Tassel and Fodille. Tassel being the thirteen year-old boy that you had killed, and Fodille being the twelve year-old girl that Finnick had killed. You could try to play it off as self defense with Tassel, but you knew exactly what you were doing when you turned your back to him. It was bait, you wanted him to step out so that you could kill him. And it worked, you just didn’t expect him to jump on your back like that.

As for Finnick, you can’t imagine what he’d done to get Fodille to go after him. Or maybe he just came across her and decided that he might as well kill her.

Either way, in the end, you wake up screaming. For a good second, while you stare off into the pitch black room, you’re sure that you’ve died. But the moment you take in a deep breath from your nose, you’re reminded that even that would be a dream. Your throat is sore, your cheeks are soaked. You reach for a pillow and bury your face in it, sobbing, wondering how long you’ll have to suffer like this.

You’re so fucking tired. You miss the period of time when you didn’t have nightmares or worried about people approaching you from certain angles because you might accidentally kill them in a fit of blind arena flashbacks. 

You scream into the pillow, and then throw it across the room. You watch as it hits the only glass frame in the room, knocking it off the wall. You get up from the bed, take your ring from the bowl and go to the bathroom. You don’t bother to turn on the light, but you hesitate putting water on your face.

It wouldn’t be a bright idea, especially not after the nightmare, but you do it anyway, multiple times. Even after the cold water, you still feel stuffy, so you go to leave the bedroom. Just as you step on the carpet near the door, a searing hot pain goes right through your foot.

You stifle a scream, gritting your teeth as tears reappear in your eyes. Your hand falls against the wall, holding all of your bodyweight, while the other cradles your foot. Even in the darkness, you can see the dark liquid coming from your foot. You struggle to find the lightswitch, and find yourself blinded in yellow light when you turn it on.

It takes a while of blinking for you to be able to see, and when you do, you’re not surprised. The frame had shattered, giant glass and small glass shards are all over the carpet. In your foot is a pretty big one, around it are much smaller pieces. Blood comes out of every one of them, staining the white carpet red.

Now is the time to start looking for the help call button. You go over the one panel near the door, squinting and rubbing your eyes. The pain in your foot is distracting, the light is hard to see through. You end up pressing the red one and hope that it works.

It does, it’s only a matter of seconds before the door is opening and you’re met with multiple Capitol attendants at the door. They take in the scene, the glass, your foot, the disorientation in your face. And without a single word, two of them help you so that you don’t have to walk on the foot, another goes to clean up the mess.

They take you into the main room and sit you on a chair, “Would you like for us to wake Elysia or one of the mentors?”

You shake your head, eyes trained on the first aid. You’re pretty sure that you’re going to need stitches, “No, can you just tell Elysia when she gets up?”

They agree, bring around the medical expert. They sit in a chair opposite to you, prop your foot onto their thigh and gently get to work. They pull out each individual shard, starting with the smallest, and working their way up to the bigger ones. You close your eyes and dig your nails into your hands when they start pulling out the worst one. You try not to move much but you still end up curling your foot.

You were right about the stitches, the person numbs your foot first and then works on the needle. Since you can’t feel it, it’s easier to watch them go through it. You bleed a lot, and even with the stitches, they wrap a bandage around your foot and have to half-carry you back to your room.

In the hallway is Finnick, he’s shirtless and has got his arms crossed over his chest. He looks over you, the two Capitol attendants, and then down at your foot. The serious expression on his face drops, as well as his arms, “What happened?”

“Broke a frame and stepped on glass, had to get stitches. I’ll be fine, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“She can stay in my room.” Finnick insists, holding his arms out for you.

You don’t argue, letting him hold onto you, “Thank you, can you tell Elysia that I’ll be in his room, too?”

“Yes, of course. Call if you have any more problems.” they say.

Finnick brings you into his room, which is almost a mirror of yours. His bed is unkempt, he was obviously sleeping. You wonder if it was your screaming and sobbing that woke him up, or the Capitol people helping you that did it. Either way, he shuts the door and helps you to his bed.

“I can sleep on the floor.” you tell him.

“There’s a hammock.” Finnick says, motioning to the corner.

Your eyes follow, and you find that he’s not lying. A white-roped hammock hangs in the corner of the room. He throws in a pillow, lays a blanket down as a base and then helps you into it. It’s a lot more comfortable than you thought it would be, and you laugh when he throws another, softer blanket on top of you.

Before he goes to lay back down, for the first time in months, he presses a gentle kiss to your lips, “I’m right here if you need anything, okay?”

“Yeah, thank you.” 

He lays down in the bed, back turned to you, blanket pulled over his shoulder. You lay your head against the pillow and stare at the ceiling of his room. Your foot throbs painfully. Even with how he set you up comfortably, you don’t fall asleep. You go over the different scenarios in which everyone will have to work around your hurt foot.

During your daydreaming, you manage to doze off. Before you know it, Finnick is shaking you awake, telling you that you two should eat lunch real quick before you get ready for District Twelve. It’s the afternoon, they’ve let you sleep in considerably. Finnick helps you out of the hammock and lets you lean on him while the two of you make your way to the dining car.

Everyone is at the table already, dressed and ready for what Twelve will have to offer. Before you can even get halfway into the room, all eyes are on you and Finnick. Suddenly, the topic is on your hurt foot.

“Let’s see it.” Laurel says, motioning for you to head towards her.

Finnick helps, you lean against the table with one hand so Finnick can go and sit down and start eating. You watch as Laurel unravels the bandage to take in the damage.

“Well, I’ll certainly say that I’m surprised.” Elysia says, sitting up a bit on her chair to see over the table.

“What happened, again?” Anchor asks, looking right at you.

“I uh–” you make a face, “The Capitol attendant didn’t tell you?”

“They didn’t tell us much of anything.” Cleo says, sipping on her coffee, “Did you get any sleep last night.”

Leo huffs, “That’s going to be hard to cover up.

“Well, what happened?” Laurel presses, looking at you now. If she thinks that your foot looks bad, she doesn’t say anything. 

“A glass picture frame broke by the door last night.” you decide that you’ll keep the fact that you broke it, to yourself.

“How?” Cleo asks.

You open your mouth, going to come up with some bullshit excuse, but Elysia has her own reason.

“I bet it was how hard the train braked last night during the refuel. Did any of you feel it?”

“I did.” Cleo and Leo say at the same time.

“Makes sense.” Pleurisy says, “They should’ve nailed it onto the wall better. What’re you thinking, Laurel?”

“She’s going to have to use numbing cream and wear flats for the rest of the trip.” Laurel turns to an attendant, “Can you clean and rebandage her foot?”

You get a new place to sit, away from the table, while your foot is reprepared. At least you’ve gotten yourself out of wearing heels, but you can’t imagine that the pain in your foot is nearly worth it. Plus, you’ll still be walking funky, so there’s no doubt that someone is going to point it out.

You have to eat quickly because you’re behind schedule. This time, you manage to feel just fine, which means that you won’t have to take a ten minute breather to make sure that you won’t puke. Cleo, Beth and Leo work together to make you look nice. They pull your hair down, making it look nice with as many products as possible.

Laurel comes around with your clothes. Since it’s snowing in District Twelve, you put on a dark purple jacket, black pants, snow boots and a hat to keep your ears warm. You think it’s overkill until you finally look outside. Even Finnick is dressed up to be warm, and he hardly ever gets cold.

The train gets dark for a long moment as you pass through a tunnel. When light comes back, you can see that District Twelve has tall walls. As soon as you can see into the district, the first word that comes to mind is ‘gloomy’. You immediately feel bad for the people because they have to stand outside while you receive plaques for murdering their tributes.

You and Finnick are brought into the main room, you’re on more of a time crunch than you had originally thought. Laurel applies the finishing touches here, fixing stray hairs and helping you walk in the boots with your hurt foot. Right as you pull into the train station, Elysia tells you that there won’t be a ride through the city, so there’s nothing to worry about there. But there are cameras at the station, waiting to see you two.

And just like that, the doors open and you’re exposed to said cameras. You hold onto Finnick’s arm tightly, trying not to make your limp super noticeable. Even with the numbing cream, you can feel the stitches oddly move. You’re really afraid of accidentally tearing them.

You’re directed into a car by a couple of peacekeepers. Making sure to thank them, you head inside first, Mags follows, then it’s Finnick, Anchor and Elysia. On the way to the Justice Building, Elysia gives you the cards to read off of, just in case you forget some lines.

From the car, you’re inside of the main building. You hardly get a few steps inside when you can smell a particular scent that must be exclusive to their district. As well as see all the dust that has collected onto tabletops they have not used in months. You can at least smell something cooking.

There’s a few seconds before you have to go outside and face the families of Tassel and Fodille. It really hits you now, you take deep breaths and try to ease the panic attack that’s rising. But it’s coming, and you don’t know how to stop it. With the anthem already playing, you’re fucked.

“(Y/n), breathe.” Finnick says, making you face him, “Tell me one thing you smell.”

“The dinner.”

“Two things you feel.” he says.

“You touching me and the stitches.” you take a deep breath.

“Three things you hear.”

“Your voice, the anthem and my heartbeat.” it’s loud in your ears, almost louder than the anthem that’s playing outside.

“Your heartbeat is constant, it’s not going away.” Finnick says, “Focus on it, okay?”

You nod, sniffing. He gives you a small smile. Microphones are clipped to your bodies so that you’ll be heard. Finnick offers his arm and you wrap your hands around it, just like how you did on the chariot ride. The mayor of District Twelve is introducing you when the doors open.

“You’ve got this.” Elysia urges.

You two move forward, the applause from Twelve feels apprehensive. You walk together, you rely on Finnick to find the right spot on where to stop. He does, and you’re finally able to take in what the district looks like. You were right about the gloomy idea, because this does not nearly radiate the same energy that District Four does.

The space in front of the Justice Building is packed with people, all who don’t look thrilled that they have to entertain you two. There’s been two stages that have been constructed for the families of Tassel and Fodille. You don’t want to look. You have to.

Tassel’s parents are pretty young, but they don’t have any other kids, Tassel was their only child. His parents are straight-faced and angry, no doubt at you. Fodille’s family isn’t much better, she only has a younger sister that has to be half the age that Fodille was… so many six, seven?

The clapping dissolves, the mayor has to give a speech in your honor. You hate standing here and awkwardly staring into their district like this. You killed Tassel, you killed their only son. There’s a number of circumstances that go through your mind, none of which you like.

Two girls hand off large bouquets of flowers to you and Finnick. You make sure to thank them, and then Finnick is reciting the customary reply. It’s nothing interesting, just a thank you. You say your part next, which is practically a repeat of what he just did.

The last part is up to you and Finnick, since it’s your personal comments. It might have been approved by Elysia, Anchor and Mags, but that doesn’t mean they weren’t any less specially structured for their tributes. Unfortunately for you, you and Finnick came to the agreement that you two would switch on and off for who starts first and who goes second.

You clear your throat slightly, staring at Tassel’s family, because everything that you had written down, doesn’t come to mind. You open your mouth, draw your eyebrows in and breathe out. 

You can’t say anything staring at them like this. You close your eyes, and find it much easier this way, “Last night I dreamt that I had been perched in bushes by a pond, watching as two older tributes came around to gather water. I barely moved, but made noise nonetheless. The boy came to investigate, thought that he’d heard something but turned his back to me. I thought it was the perfect opportunity.

“I jumped onto his back, arms and legs wrapped around him and thought victory was mine because I had the high ground. How would he get away from this? He couldn’t possibly. When he reached for his sword, I pulled his hair and went to go choke him. I didn’t take into consideration how clever the boy was, as he fell backwards into the pond on purpose.

“I wasn’t worried for a second.” you breathe out all the air you’re holding, “But I panicked when the water washed over me, when I realized that I didn’t know how to swim and I couldn’t hold my breath for long. I panicked when the boy held me in place to make sure that I would die. I wanted to cry when I thought about how I would be breathing in water in no time.

“It was worse when he wouldn’t let me go, no matter how desperate I was. I thought it was unfair, how he could be so big and so much stronger than me. It was an unfair advantage that I hadn’t taken into consideration. When I opened my mouth to breathe, unable to hold my breath any longer, I inhaled water. The boy let me go, and left me in the darkness of that pond, to sink to the bottom and drown.”

You open your eyes, looking at Tassel’s family, “I died in the dark, cold and in pain, worried about how my family would be able to pay for funeral expenses.” you shake your head, “I have been waking up to this nightmare for weeks. Since the end of the games, I have not slept soundly since. Your son’s face haunts me, and I know that means nothing to you, and I’m sorry. It’s not a proud moment of mine, his face never escapes me in my happiest moments.”

It’s done it, his mother is crying, burying her face into her husband’s shoulder. His father nods once at you, but you don’t think that’s good enough. You could give this speech a hundred times to them, apologize over and over, but it will never compare to what it feels like to lose family. Especially not a son that they had raised.

Finnick gives his rehearsed speech to Fodille’s family, which turns out to be just as emotional. You two are given big plaques to accompany your bouquets. You listen to the clapping of the district, which somehow sounds louder than the first time around. The mayor wraps up your appearance, and then you’re brought back into the Justice Building, where everyone is waiting.

Elysia praises you guys, hardly making a comment on how you went off-script. Anchor gives you an approving nod, and suddenly you’re being readied for the dinner. You get washed completely so that you’re a blank canvas, and the prep teams work back up from there. Cleo and Leo are excited to be attending tonight’s dinner, and all the future ones too. You don’t see the big fuss.

They keep with the purple theme. They place you in a dress that reaches your calves, and a pair of black flats with white socks after more numbing cream is applied. Laurel comes around for finishing touches, which is when she pulls a black cardigan over your shoulders to keep you extra warm. You thank her.

“Try not to play with the ring too much, okay?” Laurel says, standing you in front of the mirror so that you can see yourself. You’ve begun to get used to the fact that you’re pretty unrecognizable after every makeover, “The Capitol is starting to take notice.”

“Okay.” your hands drop, you smooth out the dress, “Are we ready to go?”

“Yeah, make sure to smile.” she says.

The prep teams head out first, Elysia counts every step, and warns you guys to count too. Next is Laurel and Pleurisy, who look good naturally and have big smiles on their faces. Anchor has Mags hold onto him so that she’s able to move quicker and so that they don’t fall behind.

“How are you feeling?” Finnick asks.

“Tired, what about you?”

“Hungry.” he says, and the two of you grin.

You start walking.

It’s a rinse and repeat for every district. Your speeches start to blur, as does the faces. District Eight is hard for Finnick because both of the tributes died to him, that night he wakes up sobbing. You hold your breath and the next time you’re fully able to breathe is District Three, where Verda and Blaire’s families are more than forgiving. You can’t thank Blaire’s family enough, when you leave, you think that you’ve finally come to peace with Blaire’s sacrifice.

After your visit in District Two–which had ended badly, the word ‘traitor’ is what you’re labeled as there–Finnick comes up with the idea of making your own training facilities. 

“What the hell do you mean?” you ask, looking at Finnick. He’s sitting on his bed, sprawled out and staring at the ceiling. You’re in his hammock.

Finnick sits up, “Think about it, we get a building, invest our own money into it. We get families in on it, advertise it quietly, start training kids to be prepared. If we can win at fourteen and fifteen, other kids can win at fourteen and fifteen, maybe even younger!”

“They just need an opportunity.” you say, he nods, a grin is spreading over his face. “We’ve got a problem though, your mom is going to say no, and my brothers would never approve of it.”

“I’ve got a solution to that too. What if we ask Anchor and Mags to put their names down? But only us and Anchor train the tributes, since we’re the youngest.”

You smile a bit, “You better be the one to suggest it to them.”

“Okay!” he agrees, getting up from the bed, “Let’s go now, then.”

Mags and Anchor approve the idea almost immediately, and for the rest of the night, you’re subjected to laying out the plans with them. Mags has got years worth of money built up, and decides that she’ll take on the bulk of the expenses. Anchor agrees to be a trainer, as do you and Finnick, on top of being mentors. 

“You know this means you won’t be home often, right?” Anchor says.

“At least we’ll be in the same district.” you tell him.

Conversation keeps moving. You point out that there’s an expensive building on the rich side of District Four. It’s big, and you think it served as some sort of hotel or warehouse. It’s going to need repairs, but you write the address down anyway and hand it off to Mags.

Finnick says that you two will start advertising it as soon as you get back home, there’s no doubt that there’s going to be some takers. No one wants their kids to die in the games, and if they’ve been preparing for years, their odds increase. By the time you reach District One, you’re feeling better about everything, and take District One with a brave smile.

The Capitol is the same way. You and Finnick stay in the Tribute Center, on your regular floor. The following night, you’re brought to the stage with Caesar to be questioned on how you and Finnick were feeling during the tour. He keeps it going smoothly, there’s not a moment you feel uncomfortable.

“And finally, what are your plans for the future?” he asks, sitting back in his chair, “Two young mentors, next summer will be your first time with tributes. What are your thoughts?”

“Our plans are secret.” you say outright, which has Finnick smirking. 

The audience likes this, all on the edge of their seat. No matter how hard Caesar prys, neither you or Finnick say anything. To admit the idea of illegally training tributes could mean big trouble for District Four. 

“You have to give me something.” Caesar says, “To give us something.”

Finnick gives him a fun smile, “Let’s just say that District Four just inherited the best mentors they could ask for.”

The interview ends, you and Finnick are brought to a large banquet. There’s music, soft chairs, tables with more food than you could ever imagine. The floors are polished, the ceiling is dark. You and Finnick are on camera the entire time, so you have to work together if you want to do anything. You two find your spot at the dessert table, and continue to sample the cakes, cookies, cupcakes, puddings, among other things. Finnick and you bet on who will get sick first, and you end up losing.

Eventually it gets out that you’re stationed at the dessert table, because people start coming around. You take pictures, and exchange names and conversation. You try to be polite and friendly, you’re just glad that they move on relatively quickly to allow others get their say.

Finnick enjoys his second slice of raspberry cheesecake, you get a cold bowl of ice cream and find a new spot to stand. You silently wish they served dishes like this back home. You wonder if someone has a cookbook, you’ll start cooking like this if you can. You’ve got the money for the ingredients, you just need the recipe.

Anchor and Mags come around to check on you and Finnick, and then suggest that you get real food into you besides all the sweets. They warn you to stay away from the drinks that’ll make you puke up your food, and wish you good luck on your next round of fans. You and Finnick go to a table with soups that warm the throat and make you feel hungrier than you were before.

When the music picks up to something more upbeat, you decide that it won’t hurt to dance once. You try to follow what Elysia had taught you two, but give up halfway through and decide for a more traditional dance from Four. It works, you and Finnick have more fun than you were before.

“Had you come up with that idea earlier into the victory tour, I can’t imagine how giddy we would have been throughout the whole tour.” you say, letting Finnick spin you.

“It would have been criminal.” he laughs, you join, “District One seemed like a pretty bad place to begin with.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” you agree. Considering that Trink and Lennox were the last two tributes that could have won. Their families weren’t very thrilled to see you two, either.

At this point, you don’t really care. How are they going to significantly affect you? Do they think them glaring at you is really going to do anything? The only time you’re afraid of Lennox in your nightmares is when he’s choking and beating you to death. If you could go back and do it all again, you’d kill Allio in his sleep and move on with your life.

He was stupid and egotistical. It’s his own fault that you’re alive and he isn’t. The Hunger Games is a fight to the death, a survival of the fittest. It’s an embarrassment to him that he had trained for years and still wasn’t fit enough to win. Him, seventeen, you, fifteen.

After dancing, you and Finnick take a break and wait for Elysia to come around. She picks you two up around midnight, the two of you go around and say your goodbyes and collect the prep teams, stylists and mentors. After that, you all get into separate cars to get back onto the train on time.

The prep teams are drunk and go to bed immediately. The rest of you stand around for a little while, talking about how tomorrow will go. Just before you go to bed, Elysia presents you with a recipe book straight from the kitchen. You thank her, bid everyone goodnight, but find yourself with Finnick in your room, going over what you’ll be making.

In the morning, you’re prepared for cameras again. You make sure to give a big smile and wave when you see Four again, glad to be home. Unfortunately, you’re not allowed to see your family until dinner. Everyone is brought to Mayor Burrula’s house to get ready for tonight’s celebration.

You’ve never been inside of his house before, but it’s huge. Three floors, the third is where you’re brought. You’re prepared, just like you’ve been for every evening for the past couple of weeks. You’re dressed in a knee-length, navy blue and silver dress. You’re still not allowed heels, so Laurel settles for leather sandals and begs you to not do anything that might make your foot bleed.

When you’re done, you have about an hour to wander around the house. You don’t exactly feel comfortable, but Finnick goes right ahead. He holds onto your hand and brings you through each and every floor. On the second one, you come across Mayor Burrula’s twins.

They’re both eighteen now, seniors. Ameer and Mirza are the most popular in their grade, and considering that they’re both boys, they’ve got a bigger voice than you could ever have with Finnick. It’s an easy business opportunity, and it doesn’t take long before Finnick catches on. Neither of you mention it, instead you take the hour to get close to them.

When the hour is up, you’re brought around to be with your teams again. Elysia reminds you what you’re supposed to do, you and Finnick are fussed over for the final time. Once again, everyone slowly descends down the stairs and outside, where the district is loud with whistling and clapping.

The prep teams, Elysia, the stylists and finally, your mentors all leave. In the end, it’s just you and Finnick standing there.

The tour is almost over.

Finnick offers his arm to you, “One last celebration.” he says.

You slip your arm into his, leaning over to give him a kiss.

“One last celebration.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS SERIES IS A TRIOLOGY! Redamancy is part 2 of it! It's already out :)


End file.
